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.2-?! pENN PuBLISHIN(j(?A\PANY 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf...i.t...2 

ONITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



EASY ENTERTAINMENTS 



FOR 



Young People 



CONTAINING 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR, A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS, 

THE SNIGGLES FAMILY, DOCTOR CURE-ALL, 

THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE, 

VICE VERSA, AND MY 

COUNTRY 




Philadelphia 

The Penn Publishing Company 

1892 



7- N 



^^S-v 



.v 



Copyright, 1892, by the Penn Publishing Company 



CONTENTS 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 

DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

VICE VERSA 

MY COUNTRY 



The Court of the Year 



AN ENTERTAINMENT 

ILLUSTRATING THE MONTHS AND SEASONS 
BY MEANS OP 

Recitation, Music, and Tableaux 



By 
MRS. E. C. WHITNEY 



The Court of the Year 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



The Nineteenth Century— An aged monarch. 

The New Year— An infant. 

January, February— Two old men. 

March— A blustering, red-faced woman. 

April— A young miss of winning appearance. 

May, a young, beautiful girl. 

June, ^ 

July, l Three young ladies. 

August, ) 

September— A young matron 

October— A middle-aged woman of ruddy looks. 

November— An elderly man. 

December— a very old man. 



NOTE. 



The poem which these tableaux illustrate may be read or recited in 
sections, by two or more children, or recited by one who has good imita- 
tive powers. (Recited in costume, would be effective.) The scenes them- 
selves furnish room for the exercise of ingenuity and taste, which can 
make the rendering of them exceedingly attractive, either in vestry or 
parlor, on a week-day evening, and they can be very simply or elabo- 
rately arranged to suit the wishes of the performers. 



First Tableau 

THE CHRISTENING OF THE NEW YEAR 

By January 

An altar. January (dressed like a clergyman, in 
surplice and wig) stands before it. A silver basin, with 
water in it, at his left. In front of him stands the 
"Century," a very aged monarch, with crown on his 

3 



4 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

head, arrayed in a robe of purple and ermine. (A rich 
shawl, with tissue-paper crimped to represent fur, can 
be used effectively, or a maguificent robe be provided, 
as circumstances favor.) The " Century " holds the 
New Year in his arms, while January holds his right 
hand over the child, as if in benediction. Altar drapery 
and candles heighten the effect. Also palms and cen- 
tury plants. 

Second Tableau 

JANUARY AND FEBRUARY ENGAGED IN 
CONTROVERSY 

A little old room. Rafters (if easy to have them). 
An open fire (a coal grate, with wood and tinsel to rep- 
resent fire, will do, and is easily arranged). The two 
men are seated in arm-chairs (or old rocking-chairs). 
A window at one side can be produced by a large 
clothes horse, draped with some dark material, and an 
open square cut in it, the flap of which can be caught 
up like a small curtain. January still wears his minis- 
terial stock about his neck, a black band of considerable 
width, nose glass, and a flowing wig and beard. Feb- 
ruary is in ordinary clothing, snow-besprinkled, and 
also wears a white wig (both wigs are powdered, like 
frost). 



Third Tableau 

MARCH 

The two men are still by their fire, but staring at the 
open window, through which March is peering. Janu- 
ary is half rising from his chair, listening with wonder 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 5 

to the words of blustering March, who is a red-faced old 
woman, wearing a tawdry bonnet, with flying red 
strings. She stands without, her face and shoulders only 
visible, looking in upon them, and shaking her fore- 
finger at them, with a vindictive look upon her face. 



Fourth Tableau 

APRIL 

January and February seem to be at peace with each 
other, and are now looking toward the open door, on 
the sill of w T hich stands little April, a young miss 
with curls. She wears green, aud crystal drops (beads) 
are glistening in the folds of her dress ; on her cheeks a 
glistening, as of tears, is apparent. A crown of cro- 
cuses is on her head (this can be made of paper). She 
bears green sprays in her hands, and looks smilingly at 
the two bewildered veterans. The two men are ad- 
vancing to meet her. 

Fifth Tableau 

MAY 

The room is now brightened by some small trees or 
shrubs, and some budded plants, and May, a young 
girl, with apron full of blossoms, is crowning the old 
men with apple blossoms. One has a crown already, 
and she is in the act of putting one on the head of the 
other. A bird whistle is heard behind the scenes, and 
one or two birds (stuffed) may be perched on the boughs 
in sight. Grass and leaves are strewn over the floor. The 
fire has burned low, and February is advancing with an 
armful of brush toward it. May wears a garland on 
her head and a dress of green and yellow. 



6 the court of the year 

Sixth Tableau 
SUMMER 

June, July, and August, three blooming girls in 
tasteful summer costumes (July in white),; a colored 
bodice with shortened skirt is effective. Straw hats, 
and slippers laced with narrow, colored ribbons which 
cross and tie above the ankle. June is garlanding the 
wall with roses. July has a rake, and stands near a 
hay mound. August reclines under a shade of boughs. 
Baskets of berries are near, flowers also, in pots, and 
scattered about in profusion. 

(After this tableau, "The Last Rose of Summer " 
may be sung behind the scenes by one or more voices, 
or it may be omitted.) 



Seventh Tableau 

"EARLY AUTUMN "—SEPTEMBER AND 
OCTOBER 

September, a young matron, dressed in yellow. She 
wears a chaplet of slightly colored leaves (bayberry 
preferred). Her hat, which lies at her feet, is of rustic 
straw and trimmed with asters and dahlias. In her hand 
are goldenrod sprays. She reclines or leans against 
her sheaves (corn may be substituted). October, a 
middle-aged, ruddy-faced matron, in a russet dress with 
pink trimmings, stands, with palette and brush in her 
hand, surveying a fiery sumac tree (artificial leaves will 
do). She wears a crown of brilliant autumn leaves. 
Grapes, apples, and plums, in baskets, are near at hand. 



the court of the year 7 

Eighth Tableau 

NOVEMBER 

An elderly man. His clothing is of a sombre tone. 
He wears a long beard, and has a kindly expression on 
his face. The " Crops of the Year " lie all about him, 
fruits, vegetables, and grain. On the stubble (or dead 
grass strewing the ground) lie pumpkins and corn. A 
rustic table is spread with an attractive display of 
fruits — apples, etc. November stands smiling encour- 
agingly at a frightened-looking little woman, who wears 
a gay bonuet and drab dress, and has a profusion of 
long yellow curls, falling either side of her cheeks in- 
side of her bonuet. She is looking toward Jack Frost, 
who is standing in the doorway, his coat covered with 
snow, his beard bristling with ice-drops (beads). He is 
surveying the Thanksgiving table November has pre- 
pared. 

Ninth Tarleau 
WINTER 

December, a very old man. He wears a black robe, 
trimmed with white fur (paper can produce this effect). 
His locks are hoary. He looks at November, who is 
retiring from the room, with an approving smile. A 
glowing fire (tinsel) is on " the hearth/' and on the wall 
are white wreaths, dead grasses, with crystal drops. 
Leafless branches are hung with bits of silver (paper), 
diamond dust scattered over the stubble on the floor. 
Jack Frost is radiant with icicles and silver dust. He 
bears a gorgeous silver banner, and stands pointing to a 



8 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

Christmas tree near by, loaded with real or imitation 
gifts, streamers, etc. This tree may afterward be di- 
vested of its contents by the children, who see it for the 
first time in this tableau. 



Tenth Tableau 

FINIS 

The months are kneeling in a semicircle about De- 
cember, who stands with outstretched hands, look- 
ing upward, as if imploring a blessing upon them. The 
tree is now lighted for the first time, Jack Frost stand- 
ing near with a coronet of lighted wax tapers on his 
head (these tapers are stuck into the points of his silver 
crown). He holds toys in his hands toward the chil- 
dren. 



(This tableau may be gotten up very simply or gor- 
geously, according to the requirements of the occasion. 
It is always a very striking one.) 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 9 

PAKT FIKST. 

First Tableau — The Christening of the Year. 

I. 

By the embers so low, in a room dark and dreary, w 

Sat a queer little man with a look wan and weary, 

And his name was January. 
At the sleet-stained panes he sat gazing awhile, 
And then over his face stole a grim, bitter smile 

As he spoke to February. 

II. 

" So you taunt me with l cold, inhospitable ways V 
But now, pray, run your eye over your list of days, 

And point me to one, if you can, 
That bewilders the heart with its wealth of good cheer 
As the day when our young kiug, the baby New Year, 

Was christened by frosty old Jan." 

III. 

With a poke at the coals, which emitted a spark, 
Esquire February took a seat with a jerk, 

And replied thus to his brother : 
" To be sure, you can boast of your one happy day, 
But please show me, in all the sweet annals of May, 

Or her sister months, another 

IV. 

" Bright series of days, that are finer or softer 
Than I give the earth, when with jubilant laughter 

I break up your frost and your snow ! 
'Tis true that my advent, amidst all your clatter, 



10 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

Partakes of your sharpness, but what does that matter, 
When from worse to better I go ?" 



Second Tableau— January and February. 
V. 
" You boastful old fellows ! I think I'd do better 
Than sit by that ghost of a fire. You're wetter 

Than two deluged rats, I'll be bound ; 
Jan's clothes are all frost — as for Feb's, you could wring 

'em, 
Despite his ' soft days,' when he knows that I send him 
My herald to dry up his ground. 

VI. 

" That when my swift car, with its fine band of breezes, 
King Boreas its chief aud selecter of pieces, 

Rolls on in the train of the year ; 
Our wheels may not sink quite to China below 
(It makes our good trumpeter always fume, so 

Feb's heart ought to tremble with fear). 

VII. 
" Very oft, w 7 hen the Earth needs her ironing done, 
I dispatch my good west wind, with plenty of sun, 

To help Febby with his spring work ; 
Yet, if dryness occurs, be it ever so small, 
It at once sets him up so outrageously tall 

(The thankless, hard-hearted old Turk!") 

VIII. 
" The loud-talking vixen, the wrathful old creature Y* 
Forgetting their feud, they now turned toward their 
preacher, 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 11 

And beheld, through chinks in the pane, 
Brazen March peering in, her red face all glowing 
With her silly attempts at listening — and blowing, 

When they heard one calling again. 



Third Tableau — March. 

IX. 

In the doorway stood April, her locks all awry, 
" Blown to pieces," she said, with a dolorous sigh, 

"By that band of wrathful breezes. 
Dame March surely errs when she flatters those creat- 
ures, 
The briefest acquaintance with them serves to teach us 

They do give us naught but sneezes." 

X. 

In her eyes lingered tears, yet her lips curved with 

smiles ; 
In her curls were wreathed crocus-buds, sweet were the 
wiles 
Of the little changeable thing ; 
Such a scent of new earth and soft tufts of young green 
As she shook from her apron, with daintiest mien ! 
(The dear little daughter of Spring !) 



Fourth Tableau — April 
XL 

u Over hill, over dale, from the South-land I've come, 
With my gifts from the tropics to gladden your home ; 
Just peep from your casement and see ! 



12 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

All the trees are resplendent in holiday dress, 
The sweet lilac is pluming, the willow's soft tress 
Is curled for the grand jubilee. 

XII. 

" The little arbutus has donned her pink satin, 
The little gold robin is trilling his matin, 

All Nature is blithe as the lark. ' 

Come, rouse ye, and shake off the gloom of the dawning, 
Come share with the blue-bird the glee of the morning 

Nor longer nurse that feeble spark." 

XIII. 

" Who is this ? " queried Febby, then swift through the 

door 
Lounded light-footed May, with her gay pinafore 

Full of buds. With curtsey and blush 
She bedecked both her sires with apple buds, well, 
How those grim faces brightened, I never can tell, 

How they heaped that fire with brush ! 

XIV. 

"If we'd known you were coming we'd not have sat 

thus, 
With all things so cheerless. — And heard you our fuss f " 
" Oh ! yes, friends, but be of good cheer ; 

June is coming with roses to garland your wall, 
She will soon make this chamber a gay, festal hall 
Befitting the Court of the Year." 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 



13 



PART SECOND. 

Fifth Tableau. — May. 

XV. 

A SUMMER CHORAL. 



Introduction. 



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THE COURT OF THE TEAK 



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THE COURT OF THE YEAR 15 

Rosy June spread her leaves and reared high her green 

domes 
Where the zephyrs went wooing and birdlings found 
homes ; 
Then midsummer fell with its hush ; 
Sweet July dropped her berries; in hay-scented dells 
Droned the bee, while the fruits and the tropical bells 
Of August hung heavy and lush. 



Sixth Tableau — Summer 

XVI. 

" If you seek for perfection, soft airs and fine flowers 
Cannot make an Eden without help of ours," 

September now smilingly said ; 
" I will bring my ripe fruits and my silken-eared corn, 
Golden sheaves from the wheat-field, this still, amber 
morn, 

To add to the bounty you've spread." 

XVII. 

Bright October came next with her palette and brush, 
All her garments were dyed in the sunset's pale flush, 

And she spoke with a winning grace ; — 
" I will fresco this fair, paradisal abode, 
Though I grieve that decay must these bright hues cor- 
rode 

As night shrouds the sun's golden rays. 

XVIII. 

e< See ! the royal-robed clusters are purpling the wall ; 
All the fruitage is ripe for the gardener's call, 
And paved is the orchard's brown floor 



16 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

With the russet and plum. In the sunlight mellow 
See the glorified sumac! — How swiftly the yellow 
Leaf-mold strews the dead landscape o'er I 

XIX. 

" List ! the Maple is chanting a burial lay 
To the Spruce — lovely type of immortality 

In her vestments of living green ; 
Like the soft golden haze of Earth's harvesting day, 
May the sunset of life find in shining array 

Waiting souls for the Court of Heaven." 



Seventh Tableau — Early Autumn — September 
and October 

XX. 

" Dear, oh ! dear, 'tis a shame," whimpered June to July, 
€t That November must come and set all things awry 

In this beautiful home we've reared I" — 
"Do not shun me, my children," the aged voice said, 
" For who knows but what I too some glory may shed 

O'er the twilight hour you so dread ? 

XXI. 

" 'Tis true I must send to these dear cherished bowers 
The breath of my North-wind that blasts all the flowers 

But in this frail Eden below 
Are you promised exemption from death and decay? 
Doth not each passing hour toll life's sands away 

And is it a sad truth to know? 



THE COURT OF THE YEAR 17 

XXII. 

" Under Earth's blackened mold lie the germs of new 

life; 
Resurrection must follow death's conquering strife ; 

The rose and the oak-leaf decay ; 
But the life-giving Spring clothes the earth with new 

bloom, 
As the glorified body comes forth from its tomb 
Soul blending through eternity. 

XXIII. 
" E'er we part, though to meet in a twelve-month, I trust, 
I desire to spread you an autumnal feast 

Of the fruits and crops of the year ; 
At my Thanksgiving banquet you all must sit down, 
Indian Summer, my own love, I see wears a frown, 

For the ungallant Frost draws near." 



Eighth Tableau — November 

XXIV. 

Very sadly regarding these relics of glory 

Stood an old man in ermine, his locks damp and hoary ; 

But he lent an attentive ear 
To these words ; with a nod (full of grace) at November 
He remarked, " It is true that I ought to remember 

Youth from age may not care to hear." 

XXV. 

" I am old, but the frost o'er my heart sheds no blight, 
There the love-light of age burns a flame, pure and 
bright ; 



18 THE COURT OF THE YEAR 

And see how my hearth is glowing ! 
Come now, sit by its blaze, into Winter's ear pour 
The sweet tales of your pastimes, the fond songs of yore, 

For weary the year is growing. 

XXVI. 

" I will wrap tired Earth in my mantle awhile, 
Till the jubilant Spring wakes her up with its smile; 

The softest of robes I will weave 
For my bare forest children ; your tears shall be gems, 
And your cypress- weed crowns; all my gifts are em- 
blems 

Of glory, then why do you grieve? 

XXVII. 

" Mid my forests of silver and rivers of pearl, 
Icy turrets so chilling, your banners must furl ; 

The Frost King has rule o'er the land. 
Yet though icicles hang from his banners of steel, 
He will tell you of Christmas, and with right good- will 

Lay his gifts into each open hand. 



Ninth Tableau — Winter 

XXVIII. 

" Come kneel in a circle, take my benediction, 
Both sire and maiden. If mortals will here 
Be true as the seasons to life's obligations, 
Peace and plenty shall gladden each 
Happy New Year." 



Tenth Tableau — Finis 



A Carnival of Sports 



AN ENTERTAINMENT 

REPRESENTING SUCH POPULAR SPORTS AS 

Tennis, Archery, 

Base-Ball, Boxing, 

Foot-Ball, etc. 



By 

l/ 
Verend Minster 



A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 



BY VEKEND MINSTEB 



King Carnival, seated on his decorated throne, in colors suitable for a 
gala-day, at therigntof the stage, and holding a silver trumpet and wand, 
calls for his subjects, who represent the various popular spo its in turn. 
They advance to the sound of music, as summoned, bearing the imple- 
ments of their respective games, first bowing low in obei.-ance to their 
monarch, and then advancing to the front of the stage and taking suit- 
able positions for speaking. After delivering their messages they retire 
in a similar man tier, after making homage to their king. 

King Carnival. — 

| N palmy days of old, when Greece and Rome held 
-A sway, 

Athletic, manly sports engaged man's time and thought. 
The great Olympic games, the coliseum at Rome, 
Grand trials of speed and strength were what men 

talked about. 
Men feared not to shed blood ; men flinched not when 

attacked ; 
For pride in self-control and strength of frame ran 

high. 
A gentler age holds sway, and men refrain from scenes 
Or' cruelty and rage. But still men throng to see 
A race of trotting stock, a soldiers' grand parade, 
A day of sports w 7 here men engage in trials of skill. 
Such, here, is our attempt. We do not advertise 
A show professional. We only bring to you 
A few familiar sports as we can show them here. 
The game of tennis first we beg to introduce. 

3 



4 a carnival of sports 

Tennis. 
I Enter four with tennis costume, balls, and racket."] 

Spokesman. — 

In playing games, so many ways the world has found 
employment 

That none are sought for in these days that don't afford 
enjoyment. 

Indeed, some games there are in vogue that life and 
comfort menace ; 

But naught like this can e'er be charged on innocent 
lawn-tennis. 

Some men who guard their daughters well and closely 
watch their sporting, 

Appear to have a secret fear of anything like courting. 

But when they find that neither law nor love controls 
this sport, 

They let them have a racket light and enter tennis court. 

And mothers fond, whose sons, turned loose, are apt to 
make them nervous, 

Have no complaint if they acquaint themselves with 
this neat service. 

A miser, e'en, whose care for all is scrupulously nice, 

Cannot restrain his scheming brain from this glad enter- 
prise. 

He hears it talked of, calls his son, and bids him straight- 
way learn 

The rules and regulations here for making a return. 

And maidens shy, who would not try to make a single 
rap 

If at the end they thought 'twould send their feet into a 
trap, 



A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

(For should a man propose a ban 'twould set them in a 

rage) 
Behold the net, and never fret, but in the sport engage. 
The game is safe, it will not chafe a player's nerves 

though weak, 
And one who tires finds exercise of which all highly 

speak. 

All four, forcibly. — 

Yes, tennis is the game for me, 

And tennis suits us all, 
For what will lend us fresher glee 
Than racket, net, and ball ? 
[Exeunt] 

Archery. 
King. — 

There is a sport called Archery, 

Of course, you all must know 
'Tis popular with ladies, too, 

Each belle must have a bow. 
And while in shooting Cupid's darts 

They get things strangely mixed, 
There's many a youth whom bright eyes pierce 

And leave his soul transfixed. 
[Enter young lady archer with bow and arrows. Speaks :] 
But when a lady tries to shoot 

The arrow made of wood 
She draws her bow 

At arm's length so, 

[Illustrating by a side presentation.'] 
And finds that it is good. 

At first she shakes, such pains she takes, 



6 A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

But when she's learned the game 

The arrow sings, the target rings, 
So certain is her aim. 

The game is sure to fascinate, 
For, gayly as a lark, 

The bow is beut, and she has sent 
The arrow to its mark. 

Eater small boy. Speaks : 

The small boys have to try this sport — 

(The way the Indians shot), 
And grown-up boys the arrow poise, 
For they forget it not. 

\_Exeunt.~\ 

Base Ball. 

King Carnival {rising). — 

Our national game 

I rise to proclaim. 
{Enter two, representing base-ball pitcher in uniform, and 

catcher with gloves, mask, and shield.] 
K C (continuing). — 

From musty old histories, laid up in drawers, 
We read of artillery used in the wars. 
But none of that kind appears here on the slate, 
For that sort of nonsense is quite out of date. 

Catcher. — 

Cause why ? cause without any censure or flattery 

Ba<*e-ball has developed a much improved battery. 

The batter, you know, is the man at the bat, 

The catcher he wears a wire cage for a hat, 

And a breast-plate of leather to ward off foul tips. 

(He needs a cold stove-lid to cover his lips!) 



A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS / 

The pitcher and catcher have turns at the bat, 
But they do their best work when out, for all that. 

Pitcher. — 

The man with the mask on receives the hard knocks, 
But the brain-work is done by the man in the box. 
He studies the batsman and marks where he swerves, 
And theu he delivers his most puzzling curves. 
He bulldozes runners by feinting to throw, 
And heads off the reckless who venture to go. 
He scoops in the hot ones, embraces the pops, 
And even the grounder he frequently stops. 
He gets them to second, and swift as a bird 
He heads off a runner just coming from third. 
He often retires them in " one, two, and three," 
And steps to the bat with remarkable glee. 
The papers next day sound his praises aloud 
And say he played ball more than all of his crowd. 
While as for the slugger who lent him support 
They say that his movements afforded much sport. 
They tell that with credit the ash he did wield 
And pasted the leather all over the field. 
Indeed, ere the playing had hardly begun 
He sent a sky-scraper and bagged a home "run. 
They criticise sharply, and tell of passed balls 
(Turned loose by the umpire's irregular calls). 
But talk as you choose to, the truth you can't shirk, 
The battery did all the liveliest work. 
\_Exeunt.~] 

Table Games. 
\_At this point King Carnival from his throne at one end 
of platform points to two couples seated opposite, playing 
respectively tiddle-de-winks and chess, saying ;] 



8 A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

Our spooniest lovers, as every one thinks, 
Are over there playing at tiddle-de-winks, 
While as for the others, indeed, you would guess 
By their scowls and their silence they're playing at 
chess. 

[Enter two feather-weights wearing boxing-gloves and 
ready for practice. ] 

Boxing. 
K. C. continues. — 

The human frame has wondrou3 traits, 

The mind has wondrous notions, 
The muscles and the sinews aid 

In making wondrous motions. 
Just take two lads of even build 

And let them go to sparring, 
There's not a nerve in either frame 

But that secures a jarring. 
When two engage in clashing arms, 

Or even smashing faces, 
The looker-on perceives the game 

A deal of sport embraces. 
[The two square off and one of them addresses the other, 
suiting the action here and there to the word.] 
Come on, you're challenged to engage, 

And I have never met two 
Who couldn't fill a fair-sized stage 

In one good lively set-to. 
Come up! don't stand there leaning back, 

For fear you'll get your head hit, 
I never made a strong attack, 

Excepting when I led it. 



A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 9 

Take this — and that — with compliments — 

And here's another coming, 
You'll have to make a sharp defense 
To keep this business humming. 
[ The contestants rain blows one upon the other for a few 
moments and then retire.] 

Foot-Ball. 

[The foot-ball representatives, a boy and a girl, enter un- 
announced and take positions well to the front of stage 
in position for conversation, in which the girl leads.'] 

Girl.— 

When fellows want a lively time, 

A scuffle free for all, 
They like to rush around and kick 

Each other like a ball. 
Of course there has to be a ball, 

And foot ball is the game, 
But then it means to one and all 

A scuffle just the same. 
The fellows never quite intend 

To break each other's bones, 
But then the game is sure to end 

With bruises, limps, and groans. 

Lad. — 

Well, where's the fun if boys can't rush 

And try their strength of limb ? 
I hate to hear such silly gush, 

'Tis too much like a hymn. 
These girls can't understand a game 

Unless 'tis hide-and seek 



10 A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

Or playing dolls, or pussy-cat, 

Or something quite as meek. 
For lively from a good hard run, 

With kickers tearing round, 
Will make one feel his strength of heel 

Before the goal is found. 
For twenty lads or more to kick 

Together at a ball 
May quite confuse or somewhat bruise 

Each other now — that's all. 
[Exeunt] 



Croquet. 
[Enter troupe of four or six girls."] 

First Girl. — - 

The men claim authority over the courts, 

And boys will monopolize most of the sports. 

They do the prize-rowing, they manage base-ball, 

They handle the cricket, and try to run all. 

But while many times they secure their own way, 

They have to stand back when it comes to croquet. 

Sometimes we allow them a mallet and ball, 

And rarely a champion over us all. 

But out on the lawn we can claim equal right 

And settle our merit according to might. 

From start until finish, with players well matched, 

The game has a charm that is closely attached. 

So long as one ball is kept back from the end 

Uncertainty will its encouragement lend, 

To those who, though seeming behind in the race, 

Keep hoping at last to secure the first place. 



A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 11 

Second Girl. — 

'Tis fun when a player has rather loose nerves, 

To say, " You can't hit," and mark where his ball swerves. 

Or when one, with quite over-confident air 

In playing makes blunders, the way he will stare 

As others creep past him, is apt to amuse 

If he is the victim of some clever ruse. 

'Tis sport for just two in the game to enlist, 

You've tried it. Ah ! no? Then enjoyment you've missed. 

Quick played, quick decided, unless some gross flaw 

In the lawn should delay, and the time longer draw. 

But sides, playing sides, is what most we enjoy 

When each side consists of a girl and a boy. 

To hinder each other — the two sides, you know, 

Is what we attempt, and our progress is slow 

Till one becomes rover, and gets in the way 

Of his partner, who on him continues to play 

And quick to its close brings the standing suspense 

(A game where the novice " can't see any sense "). 

Third Girl— 

Sometimes a sharp player his chief object makes 
To play on opponents and get to the stakes, 
While even his partner may linger behind 
Till he has attained the desire of his mind. 
He hopes to play rover and thus turn about, 
But sometimes opponents will just put him out, 
Combine against his partner and thus win the game, 
For which he is brought to retributive shame. 

Fourth Girl. — 

Sometimes there's a booby — can't pass the first wire, 

And when he returns for a " steadier fire," 



12 A CARNIVAL OF SPORTS 

Another, in mischief, will knock him about 

Until from position he's constantly out. 

It takes a long time for some players to learn 

The folly of playing when out of their turn. 

The rest get ahead, and, though loud he may scoff, 

One gets on a whitewash he cannot rub off. 

All in concert. — 
You may hammer and hammer to make us learn books, 
But here we do hammering " on our own hooks." 
There are numerous games we enjoy much to play, 
But for out-of-door practice, oh ! give us croquet. 

[Exeunt all but King Carnival, who rises and calls ;J 
Come, gather ye, good players all, 

Once more before my throne, 
King Carnival delights to see 

True subjects of his own. 

[All troop in to music, bow low three times before the 
throne, then retire backward from the stage, re-enter, 
and curtain falls as they bow in homage. In each of 
the exercises it is desirable that suitable costumes be 
worn, and each representative of the several sports 
should be equipped with the proper implement A gym- 
nastic drill at the close by four tennis, two base-ball, 
and four croquet players with racquets, bats, and mal- 
lets can be arranged.'] 



The Sniggles Family 



\ 4 



HUMOROUS ENTERTAINMENT 



FOR 



Nine Young Ladies 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Widow Sniggles. 

Eldest daughter, S'manthy Ann. a coquette. 

Second daughter, Jkrushy, ailicted with hay fever. 

Third daughter, Angelica Regina Utopia, an aesthete. 

Fourth daughter, Silvicta Louena, the prima donna. 

Fifth daughter, Angina Pectoris, the pathetic soul. 

Sixth daughter, Electoria Cassandra, or Poll, the elocuor. 

Seventh daughter, Mehitabel, or Graciana Subiima, the graceful girl. 

Eighth daughter, Jemima, the giggler. 



[Scene — A parlor with eight chairs ranged in a semi- 
circle. The Widow Sniggles and Daughters enter 
in pairs, singing.'] 

[Air: "John Brown's Body," etc.] 
The fam'ly of the Sniggles has just come to town. 

[Repeated three times.'} 
And we are marchin' round. 
Chorus. 
Jolly, jolly, high falutin', 

[Repeated three times.'] 
And we are m^rchm' round. 

[The Daughters are seated, and The Widow advances, 
addressing the audience.] 

Ladies and gentlemen! Friends, fellow-citizens, and 
countrymen ! This is the great and only, the grand and pe- 
culiar, the rich, racy, and rare Sniggles family. [Aside — 

3 



4 THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 

Rise and bow, my children.] It is an unusual privilege, 
my friends, which you enjoy this evening of witnessing 
this great moral spectacle, rivaling, as a public educator, 
Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show. We aim, by 
this exhibition, to strengthen your virtues and root up 
your follies — a powerful undertaking, as I see at a 
glance. Besides this opportunity [aside — Beam on the 
folks, my dears]^ you are honored by the company of 
them who have held familiar converse with the poten- 
tates of earth in Asia, Afriky, and the isles of the sea. 
[Jemima giggles. Do stop your giggling, Jemima] 
Dookes and kings has delighted to do us honor, and 
Queen Victory invited us to meet her grandson from 
Germany, but we thought we'd come here instead. [My 
dear— to Angina Pectoris — don't cry. Angina weeps 
copiously. My dear, don't cry ; you cut my heart like 
an adder. The pathetic one loudly wails.'] Every time 
I speak of Victory she always takes on this way, be- 
cause it reminds her of His Royal Highness Alphonzo 
Alexander Anaxagoras Anaximander Guelph, her beau, 
who jilted her. [Be quiet, now ; you've cried a-plenty.] 
Besides its being a moral show and a world-renowned 
exhibition, my friends and fellow-countrymen, I appeal 
straight to your very hearts. I am — I am — a — widow I 
Abinadab [profuse grief, shared by all] when he de* 
parted from this mundane spere ; Abinadab [she looks 
at his picture and weeps afresh] he tries to chirk me up, 
and says he to me, says he, " dry those bedoozlin' tears 
off your downy cheeks ; all the world loves widows." It 
was cheering, and his spirits was amazing. And says 
he, "There's a fortune in your being a widow with all 
these girls, so beautiful, so bewitching so graceful, and 
so grand. And no one can turn a cold shoulder on 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 



you " I am nice looking ; at least Abinadab, of blessed 
memory, always told me so. Now, here we are, me and 
my girls, to instruct, amuse, and elevate you. It will 
be your fault if we don't succeed. 



The Coquette 

[S'manthy Ann advances and is introduced by her 
mother.] 

Widow Sniggles. — In introducm' to you my lovely 
and beauteous family, I cannot confer a greater boon 
upon the audience than an acquaintance with my first- 
born, my S'nianthy Ann. Me and Abinadab [loudly 
sniffing'] — would he were with us on this suspicious oc- 
casion! — felt quite sure from the first that our little 
birdling would make an oncommon flutter in this transi- 
tory spere. As soon as her wing bones sprouted (she 
always makes me talk so poetic) she began to use her 
eyes bewitchin'-like [aside — bewitch two or three of 
the folks right now, S'manthy Ann] that her beaus 
buzzed about her like bumblebees. But she just drew 
them on to their own destruction. Twenty-seven of 
them committed suicide ; as many more went West ; 
several drownded their sorrows in the flowin' bowl, and 
a hospital for incurables had to be started in our town. 
Such have been a few of her triumphs! [S'manthy 
Ann, you might just give one of your killin'est glances. 
Select an old fellow, though, because he's tough, and it 
won't hurt much.] See how artistic she cuts her eyes 
round ! 

[S'manthy Ann retires with evident delight at her 
fresh conquest.'] 



6 THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 



The Hay Fever Patient 

Widow Sniggles. — After the takin' way that S'manthy 
Ann has coquetted for the ladies and gentlemen, I will 
venture to intrude upon your notice my next eldest 
daughter, my blessed, afflicted Jerushy. [She advances 
amidst general but subdued sobbing, sneezing violently, 
and flourishing a large handkerchief.'] We have strove 
to do our part to cure her. We have been on the tops 
of all the highest mountains, and even stayed a week in 
the crater of Vesuvius, at the very best hotel there, but 
it didn't do no good. You see what a wreck she is 
of a beautiful girl. [Jerushy is dissolved in tears, in- 
terrupted with sneezing.~] She was uncommon like her 
ma before she was afflicted. She caught this cold out 
sparkin' at the garden gate. Girls, take warnin' ! I 
don't say don't spark, because you all will do it ; but I 
do say, if it was my partin' words, don't take hay fever. 

[Amidst a paroxysm of sneezing, Jerushy retires to 
her seat] 

The ^Esthete 

Widow Sniggles. — We now come to a more pleasing 
subject of conversation. I am proud of my daughter 
Angelica Regina Utopia. [Angelica advances, the 
whole family smiling , while Jemima giggles.] The ado 
she kicks up everywhere among the folks is like balm 
to my wounded feelings. Specially did she raise a 
mighty row in England when we were first there, sev- 
eral years ago. Oscar Wilde just raved over her. He 
wrote her poetry by the yard, and all the girls grew 
greenish-yellow with jealousy. The sit of her gowns, 






THE SNIGGLES FAMILY i 

the way she walked, the toss of her head, and what she 
had for dinner was daily reported in the London Times. 
In fact, half a dozen reporters called every morning to 
know what she was going to do during the day. She 
was mighty popular. Oscar has just sent her a sweet 
little thing which she will now repeat to you : 

POETKY OF AN ^ESTHETE 

[Repeated Ian ga idly.'] 

Oh ! to be utterly utter ! 
To mutter and sputter and stutter! 
To roll up the eyes, 
And to look wondrous wise ! — 
This is to be utterly utter. 

Oh ! to be Oscarly too -too ! 
To be nothing quite through and through ! 
To languidly loll, 
And to prate, a la fool ! — 
Oh ! thus one is ever too-too. 

Oh ! to be greenery y allow ! 
To be callow, and fallow, and sallow! 
To wear a tea gown 
Striped pea-green and brown ! — 
This thusness is greenery yallow. 

Oh ! to be real aesthetic ! 
Pathetic ! Magnetic ! iEsthetie ! 
To take sunflower for rose, 
And to turn up the nose ! — 
True signs of the real aesthetic. 

[Angelica Regina resumes her seat.] 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 



The Prima Donna 



Widow Sniggles. — It would be more nor human to try 
and beat that last exhibition of grace and beauty ; but, 
friends, I think I can do it. Here's my fourth darling 
and beauty, Silvicta Lorena Sniggles [she awes], that 
name we were specially proud on, is our martingale. 
She sings when she's asked and when she isn't. [Sil- 
victa begins, but is checked.] Wait a moment, my 
swan, you can siug a stave presently when your ma gets 
through. We have to shut up the doors and windows 
tight when she begins, else there would be a street row 
with the folks crowdiu' to hear her. Everywhere we've 
went the people has taken off their bracelets and neck- 
laces and threw 'em at her in their delight. One boy 
actually threw his shoe, he was so taken with her. I 
hope her singin' will so please this distinguished audi- 
ence that they will throw anything that is handy, and 
we'll catch it. Now, Silly [that's our every-day name 
for the dear creature], do your level best; trill, quaver, 
and take your high notes as Signor Squallini bid you. 
[She sings."] Aint them high notes perfect? 

[The Prima Donna is seated, her sisters loudly ap- 
plauding her efforts.] 

The Pathetic Soul 
Widoiv Sniggles — 

" Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
The saddest are these : ' It might have been ;' " 
But sadder than these are sometimes seen: 
It is, but it hadn't oughterbeen. 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 9 

My beloved Angina Pectoris [she arises and advances'] 
is a feelin' illustration of both these poetical situations. 
u It might have been " — yes, truly ; for wasn't she en- 
gaged to his R. H. Alphonzo Alexander Anaxagoras 
Anaximander, and she might have been her Royal 
Highness ditto, but — but — he jilted her! [An agon- 
ized shriek from Angelica, chorused by the rest'] Posi- 
tively jilted so much female loveliness! It is heart 
rendering to think of it ! ! [All wee}?.] You do well 
to weep, my dears, for your sad and love-lorn sister. 
[Angina is entirely overcome, and falls over on the Prima 
Donna.] " It is, but it hadn't oughter been " — Angina 
Pectoris is left lamentin'. [My dear, sit up and be pa- 
thetic for the ladies. Show them how woe-begone Naxie 
left you] — we called him Naxie, r twas handier than the 
whole of it, when he came a-courtin\ We named her 
Angina Pectoris after he jilted her, because it gave her 
heart disease. Look at her now ; aint she doing it 
beautiful ? 

[Angina mourns according to taste, and is assisted in 
retiring by two of her sisters, having fallen to the floor 
in a swoon.] 

The Eloctjtor 

Widow Sniggles. — The next is my darling daughter 
Electoria Cassandra. [Electoria comes forward.] Me 
and her pa [sniffs from the family and a sob from the 
Widow] was very fond of Electoria Cassandra. We 
called her Poll, for short. From earliest infancy, by 
the way she howled and screamed, we knew she was go- 
ing to be something wonderful. All our children were 
wonderful. But we decided that Electoria Cassandra 
should be an elocutor, because she shrieked so. And 



10 THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 

we were not mistaken. The way the does elocute is 
amazin\ [Eleetoria Cassandra, Poll, my dear, give the 
ladies and gentlemen a specimen of your elocutin'.] She 
has a tender and touchin' thing on pigs that's equal to 
anything of Swineburne's. [Speak it out nice, now, my 
dear. Don't git skern.] 

THE PIG POEM 

DEDICATED TO THE HOST OF A COUNTRY BOARDING- HOUSE 

Squeak ! squeak ! squeak ! 

From the front to the back of the door ; 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

How utterly I abhor 

The squealing pigs that come 

From the pigsty under the hill, 
With their low-bred snouts and stupid eyes, 

And voice that is never still. 

'Twere well for the small -sized boy 

To hound off the piggies at play, 
But better still for mine host 

To keep them securely at bay. 

Squeak ! squeak ! squeak ! 

From my window's height, oh ! me ! 
The silence sweet of a day that has fled 

Will never returned be. 

[After Tennyson — at some distance.] 

The Graceful Girl 

Widow Sniggles. — And now, what can I say of my 
next to my youngest, my cherub, my angel, my Mehita- 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 11 

bel ? [Mehitabel advances, smirking and bowing.~\ 
She unites in herself all the graces. English is too poor 
to express my feelings. As the foreign poets have said, 
she is " E pluri buster, sick semper tyrannis, and knee 
plush ulster !" We called her Mehitabel at first, but 
Graciaua Sublitna is alone suitable for one whose every 
movement is living poetry. Why, the very nudge of 
her elbow is the inspiration for a sonnet. Every coun- 
try we have visited has a*>ked to be called her native 
heath. [Mehitabel, my dear, gratify this waiting throng 
by danciu' one of your Spanish boleros, first making a low 
bow a la Italienne.— Mehitabel botes, and just escapes 
tumbling over, while she executes a jig as awkwardly as 
possible.] Aint she too lovely! My heart just goes 
a-wallopin' with joy when she's a-dancin'. 

[Mehitabel pulls up with a jerk, and throws over a 
chair in taking her seat.] 

The Giggler 

Widow Sniggles. — This is my youngest, my gosling, 
my fairy, my baby, in fact, Benjamin, as it were, so to 
speak. Upon her has been lavished all the wealth of 
my widowed affections. [Jemima, come here and kiss 
your ma.] But, let me confide to you, friends, she has 
a habit [Jemima giggles. Do, pray, stop for a minute], 
a dreadful habit. To cure her I have stood her up on 
her toes in the corner ; I have made her hold her mouth 
full of peas; but it's all no use, she will giggle. My 
only hope is in her extreme youth, that she will out- 
grow it. I exhibit her simply as a warnin', the climax 
to this great moral show. [Now, gig a little, just a lit- 
tle, Jemima, dear.] The gigulariousne^s with which she 



12 THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 

gigs passes all believin'. [Gig on, just a few, and then 
stop.] 

[Jemima giggles tumultuously and is checked by her 
ma, who thanks the audience for kind attention to herself 
and daughters , which, however, is quite their due. All 
rising, they go out singing'] 

THE PASTING ODE 

[Air: u Coque chelunk," etc.] 

Fare ye well, 'twill give you sorrow 

Thus to part from ma and us ; 
But we hope our little visit 

Will not make a rousin' fuss. 
Chorus. — Coque chelunk, etc. 

Well w T e know you have not dresses, 
Bonnets, fans, nor gloves like ours ; 

Neither can you sing sweet ditties 
To bewitch the waking hours. 
Chorus. — Coque cheluuk, etc. 

You'll remember us with pleasure 
For our beauty, grace, and song. 

Now we'll say good-night and bye-bye 
To the whole assembled throng. 
Chorus. — Coque chelunk, etc. 

[They march in time to the music, waving fans, and 
bowing."] 

suggestions for costumes 

Wi<Um\— Large poke bonnet, decorated with nodding plumes ; frill cap, 
mantilla, reticule, fan, and large miniature of Abinadab at her neck. 



THE SNIGGLES FAMILY 13 

First Daunhter. — Ball dress, with elaborate ornaments. 

Sfcond Daughter.— Dressing gown, shawl, head wrapped up and nose 
painted red. 

Third Daughter.— Gown, greenish-yen ow, with sunflower decorations. 

Fourth Daughter. — Suggestion unnecessary. 

Fifth Daughter.— Limp white dress with narrow black sash and wreath 
of straggling leaves over disheveled hair. 

Sixth Daughter.— Suggestion unnecessary. 

Seventh Daughter.— Ungraceful effects and unbecoming styles to be se- 
lected. 

Eighth Daughter, — -To be dressed as a small child with baby cap and 
high-neck apron. 

All carry large fans. 



Doctor Cure-All 



A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS 



BY 



S. JENNIE SMITH 



CHARACTERS 

Dr. Cure-all, who has a remedy for everything. 

Maria, maid of fourteen ^ T ho has a peculiar gait. 

Mrs. Brown, who wants to reduce her flesh. 

Miss Jane Scrimpins, who desires to bleach her hair. 

Mr. Alphonso De Jones, who wishes to raise a mus- 
tache. 

Mrs. Rotchkins, a fond mother. 

Miss Kate Rotchkins, her daughter, who is bashful. 

Miss Seraphina Paddington, who wants to be tall 

Mrs. Scrawny, who is anxious to be plump. 

Mrs. Blooming, handsome widow in search of a hus- 
band. 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 



ACT I 

[Scene-— Room scantily furnished as doctor's office. 
Door on right leading to private office. Door, left, opens 
on street. Eater Dr. Cure-all. Picks up newspaper.'] 

Dr. (reading aloud). — " Glorious news ! Dr. Cure-all 
promises a positive and speedy remedy for all the ills to 
which flesh is heir. Call between nine and two at 163 
State Street." There ! that will bring them without a 
doubt. Now for my experiments. 

[Bell rings. Maria enters from right door, opens left, and 
admits Mrs. Brown, a fat woman, closely veiled.] 

Mrs, B. — May I see Dr. Cure-all ? 

Dr. (rising). — Good morning, madam ; take a seat. 
Can I do anything for you to-day ? 

Mrs. B. — You promised, in your advertisement, to 
cure all ills. Now, I am burdened with a superfluity of 
flesh. Do you think you could relieve me of some of 
it? 

Dr. — Think, madam ? I am sure of it. I can sell 
you a mixture that will produce a gratifying result in- 
side of a month. 

Mrs. B.— Oh ! what happiness ! 

Dr. — And will not harm you in the least. Maria, 
bring me No. 16. 

5 



6 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

[Maria goes to private office and returns with a small 
bottle filled with a brown liquid.'] 

Dr. — There, madam, you have a sovereign remedy for 
your complaint. Take as directed. 

Mrs. B. — A thousand thanks! How much am I in- 
debted to you ? 

Dr. — Seven dollars in all ; two for advice and five for 
the mixture. 

Mrs. B. {taking bottle and paying}. — Gladly would I 
give five times as much to be relieved of this load of 
flesh. Good morning. 

[Exit] 

Dr. — I wish she had said that sooner. Eh,v Maria? 
Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

[Bell rings. Mrs. Scrawny, a very thin woman, ad- 
mitted^] 

Mrs. S. — Good morning, Doctor. Will you kindly 
send this girl from the room? I wish to consult you 
privately. 

Dr — Certainly. Maria, will you vacate? 

Maria (pretending to be afraid of Mrs. S.). — Yes, in- 
deedy. 

Mrs. S. (nervously). — Are you sure there is no one 
around, Doctor ? Wouldn't it be well to cover the key- 
holes ? 

[Dr. hangs cloths over the keyholes.] 

Mrs.S. — Perhaps you haven't noticed it yet, Doctor — 
perhaps the casual observer would scarcely realize the 
fact that I am — very thin. 

Dr — Now that you speak of it, madam, I do notice a 
slight resemblance to a match — 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 7 

Mrs. S. (indignantly). — What ! 

Dr. — Allow me to finish, madam. I was about to say 
that I saw a resemblance to the matchless Mrs. Living- 
stone, whose lack of flesh is her only drawback. 

Mrs. 8. — Well, you see, I should like to possess a little 
more flesh — that is, I want to be just plump, you 
know. 

Dr. — I understand. Nothing is more easily accom- 
plished. One bottle of my No. 18 is all you want. [Goes 
to right door.'] Maria, bring me No. 18. 

Maria {appearing at door). — No. 18 is not fully pre- 
pared yet, sir. 

Dr. — Then bring me 11 and 7. That makes 18, I be- 
lieve — did when I went to school. 

[Maria brings two bottles.'] 

Dr. — It is an ill-wind, madam, that blows nobody any 
good, madam. Here, you see, my ill- wind brings you 
two bottles for the price of one. Half a dose of each at 
a time, and mix well before taking. 

Mrs. S — How fortunate for me ! What have I to pay? 

Dr. — Only seven dollars, madam, and it will be worth 
hundreds to you. 

Mrs. S. (paying). — Good morning. 
[Exit] 

Dr. — We are doing famously, Maria. I shall be able 
to raise your salary very soon. 
Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

[Bell rings. Miss Jane Scrimpins admitted.] 
Maria. — Walk this way, please. 

Miss Jane (aside, as she curiously watches Maria). — I 
shouldn't care to walk that way if I stood still all the 



8 DOCTOR CUR F- ALL 

days oi my life. [Aloud.'] Good morning, Doctor ; is 
it true that you can do anything you want to ? 

Dr. — I am able to accomplish a great deal of what 
people are pleased to style the impossible. What service 
may I render you ? 

Miss Jane. — I want something that will change my 
hair to a beautiful blond color, and I am afraid to use 
any of the deleterious stuffs manufactured by hair com- 
panies ? Can you assist me in this matter ? 

Dr. — Most assuredly, miss, and before many days are 
over you will feel like hugging me. 

Miss Jane. — What ! 

Dr. — That is — I mean to say — you will be everlast- 
ingly obliged to me. 

Miss Jane — That sounds better. What are your 
charges ? 

Dr. — Seven dollars in all. 

Miss Jane — Aren't you a little dear? 

Dr. {smilingly). — In my younger days, miss, the ladies 
did consider me so. 

Miss Jane (freezingly). — I mean isn't your price ex- 
orbitant? 

Dr. — Not at all, miss. You would pay seven dollars 
for beautiful shoes; why not as much for lovely hair? 
[Consulting a little booh.'] No. 9 is what you want. 
Maria, bring me No. 9. 

[Maria brings No. 9.] 
Miss Jane (paying). — Good morning, sir. 
[Exit] 
[Bell rings. Enter Alphonso De Jones.] 

A. De J. — Doctor, you see before you a smooth-faced 
youth, who, knowing that the dear ladies dote on mus- 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 9 

taches, has tried in vain for the last six months to raise 
one. Can you do anything for me in that line ? 

Dr. — Yes, you can raise an elegant mustache in less 
than a month with my No. 24. Maria, No. 24, please. 

[Maria brings No. 24.] 
Dr. — Apply externally, as directed. Only seven dol- 
lars, sir. 

A. De J. (paying). — Thanks, awfully, Doctor. Good 

[Bell rings. Mrs. Rotchkins and her daughter Kate 
admitted.'] 

Mrs. R. (aside to Kate). — Now, daughter, try to throw 
aside your reserve for once. [To Doctor.] Sir, I wish 
to consult you alone. May my daughter and this young 
lady retire to another room ? 

Dr. — Certainly, madam. Maria will you escort the 
young lady to the next room ? 

Maria. — Yes, indeedy. [She takes Miss E. by the 
hand and almost drags her from the room.'] 

Mrs. R. — Doctor, I wish to consult you about my 
daughter. She is afflicted with extreme bashfulness. I 
can scarcely induce her to leave the house, and when 
she does go out, she won't open her mouth to say a word. 
She is a bright, intelligent girl, too. 

Dr. — T noticed that, madam, and I can easily effect a 
cure. Your daughter will shine in society in less than 
a month. [Going to right door.] Maria, No. 84. 

[Enter Maria with No. 84 and Miss Kate with finger 
in her mouth.] 
Dr. — There, madam, one bottle will work like a charm. 
Only seven dollars, too. 



10 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

Mrs. R. (paying). — How caul ever sufficiently thank 
you ! Come, daughter. 

Dr. (taking Mrs R. aside). — Will the young lady 
understand why she is taking this? 

Mrs. R. — Oh i yes ; I shall explain to her now that I 
feel sure that the change can be effected. 

Dr. — You see it is necessary for the patient to under- 
stand ; otherwise the change coming on might cause a 
shock which probably would be disastrous. 

Mrs. R. — I see. Good day, sir. 

[Exit Mrs. and Miss E.] 

Maria. — Well, that is the funniest girl I ever laid my 
two eyes on. She wouldn't say a blessed word to me. 

Dr. — Shell talk fast enough soon. Say, Maria, if 
we keep on in this way your salary will be doubled. I 
think we had better open the office an hour or two 
earlier after this. When you go home to-night carry a 
bottle of No. 96 with you and take a dose before retir- 
ing. 93 is for early risiug, you know. \_Aside.~] I wish 
I dared offer her a bottle for straight walking, but I 
don't want to insult the dear little thing. She thinks 
she is grace personified. 

\_Bdl rinys. Enter Miss Seraphina Paddington.] 

Miss S. P. — Doctor, can you make a short person 
tali? 

Dr. — That I can, miss, and I must say you would be 
a perfect woman with a few inches added to your height 

Miss S. P. (looking pleased). — Oh ! thank you. 

Dr. — Maria, bring me No. 63. [Maria obeys~\ Now, 
mi-s, all youVe got to do is to take as directed, and the 
result will be surprising. Seven dollars, miss, and cheap 
at that. Isn't that so, Maria ? 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 11 

Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

Miss S. P. {paying). — What a blessing you must be 
to suffering humanity, sir. 

Dr. — It is kind of you to say so, miss. Thank you. 
Good-day. 

Miss S. P. — Good-day, sir. 

[Exit.] 

[Bell rings. Enter Mrs. Blooming, a handsome widow.'] 

Dr. — Good morning, madam. What service can I 
render to you ? Surely, a lady of your beauty cannot 
be in need of my attention ? 

Mrs. B. — You flatter me, Doctor. I am a lonely 
widow, in search of a husband. Are you able to supply 
me with one? 

Dr. — Why, my dear madam, this is not a matrimo- 
nial bureau, nor can I manufacture a man. 

Mrs. B. — But could you not find one ? 

Dr. — I don't know. There are plenty of tramps 
around this neighborhood, but, of course, a tramp 
wouldn't do. 

Mrs. B —Hardly. 

Dr. — Then there is the one-eyed butcher, 

Mrs. B. — Out of the question. 

Dr. — There is an old man around the corner looking 
for a wife, but he swears like a trooper. 

Mrs. B. — He need not apply. 

Dr. — What kind do you require, madam ? 

Mrs. B. — You ought to know, Doctor, what qualities 
I desire in a husband. You were acquainted with my 
former husband, Theophilus Blooming. He died five 
years ago, leaving me with a snug fortune. 

Dr. — I should think I did know Theophilus Bloom- 
ing. He was a noble fellow, and I shall be delighted 



12 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

to do anything I can for his widow. Call in a few 
days, madam, and in the meantime I'll look around and 
see what I can do. 

Mrs. B. — Oh ! thank you. How much am I indebted 
to you ? 

Dr. — Nothing, my dear madam. I have not aided 
you in any way. [Shaking hands with widow.'] Good 
morning. Don't fail to call in a few days. 

Mrs. B. — Good morning. 

[Exit] 

Dr. — Maria, that is the most pleasing woman I have 
laid my eyes on in a good while, and the handsomest. 

Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

Dr. — Now, we are in duty bound to find her a suita- 
ble companion. Do you happen to know of a man that 
would be likely to take her fancy ? 

Maria. — No, indeedy ; there isn't a man in this town 
that is worthy of her. 

Dr. — I agree with you there. But we must look 
around. Now, go home to your dinner, child, and I'll 
take a nap while I'm waiting for mine. If any one 
else should come, the bell will wake me. Somehow, 
Maria, I can't help thinking of that dear little widow. 
We must look around. 

Maria (aside). — I'm beginning to think we won't have 
to look very far. [Aloud.'] Yes, indeedy, we'll look. 

[Exit] 

[Doctor lies on the lounge and falls asleep. Cries out: 
i: Dear little widow /" several times in his sleep. Finally 
snores vociferously.] 

CURTAIN. 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 13 

ACT II 

[Scene as before. Maria reading. Enter Doctor.] 

Dr. — Well, Maria, fortune seems almost ready to 
smile on me. I think to-day will decide the result of 
some of my experiments. It is just a month since I 
commenced practice here, and in that time I have treated 
many patients. 

[Bell rings."] 

Br. — Ah ! that may be one of my patients returning 
to thank me for my services in his behalf. 

[Enter Mrs. Brown, who is personated by a very thin 
woman with Mrs. Brown's clothes hanging loosely on 
her. Still closely veiled."] 

Mrs. B. {angrily). — Sir, behold the ruin you have 
wrought with your diabolical No. 16. 

Dr. — Ruin, madam? You wanted to be thin, and I 
have worked wonders in your case. 

Mrs. B. — I should think you had. I didn't ask to 
look like a knitting-needle. What are you going to do 
about it ? 

Dr. — I might give you a bottle of No. 18. 

Mrs. B. (in thundering tones). — No, you will not. I 
shall take no more of your wicked decoctions. I suppose 
you would like to make me twice as fat as I was before. 
But I'll have my revenge, sir. You shall hear from me 
soon. 

[Exit] 

Dr.— Well, that is a pretty how-do-you-do. What's 
the matter with fortune now? 



14 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

[Bell rings. Miss Jane Scrimpins appears with hair as 
white as snow.] 

Miss Jane. — Behold, sir. 

Dr. — Good morning, miss. 

Miss Jane. — Don't good morning me; I won't stand 
it. See what you have done to my hair ! 

Dr. — You wanted it light, miss, and I'm sure it 
couldn't be lighter. 

Miss Jane {savagely). — I didn't ask for gray hair; I'm 
not an old woman. I wanted it blond. 

Dr. — I am exceedingly sorry, miss, that you are not 
satisfied. 

Miss Jane. — Yes, and you'll be sorrier yet before I'm 
done with you. I'll sue you for ten thousand dollars. 

[Exit.] 

Dr. — Ten thousand dollars! What do you think of 
that, Maria? And I'm worth at this minute about fif- 
teen dollars. All that I have collected so far has gone 
to pay back debts, and this whole establishment is not 
worth more than fifteen dollars, bottles and all. 

[Bell rings. Enter Mr. Alphonso De Jones with a 
very red mustache.'] 

A. De J. (scornfully). — Sir, to you I am indebted for 
this disfigurement on my face. 

Dr. — Disfigurement, my dear young man? I see 
nothing but a beautiful little mustache. 

A. De J. — Do you not see, sir, that it is red ! red ! ! 
red ! ! ! 

Dr. — What of that? Are you not aware that nine 
out of every ten young men have red mustaches? 

A. De J. — I don't care if they do. I prefer to be the 
tenth man with a black mustache. 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 15 

Dr. — You might try dyeing, sir. 

A. De J. — No, you'll probably be the one who will 
try dying. I'm going to consult my lawyer, and if the 
law can't settle you, I can. 

Dr. (nervously). — Maria, this is getting scarey. 
Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

[Door opens, and Miss Kate Rotchkins rushes boldly 
in, anxiously folloived by Mrs. R.] 

Mrs. R. — You really must excuse us, sir, for coming 
in without ringing, but my daughter — 

Miss Kate. — Oh ! pshaw! what's the use of standing 
on ceremony ? The door was unlocked and I came in. 

Dr. — Quite right, miss. 

Miss Kate. — Of course. Oh ! say, ma, look at that 
funny little image on the mantel. Where did you get 
it, Doctor ? 

Dr. — A present, miss. 

Mrs. R. — Daughter, don't be rude. 

Miss Kate. — I'm not rude, ma, I'm sociable. Most peo- 
ple like my sociability, but you are always finding fault. 
Hello! there's dear little Maria. Say, Maria, will you 
take me in the other room and show me — never mind, 
I can go myself. I'm going to look at all those num- 
bered bottles and see how the Doctor makes his stuff. 
[Rushes in private office, folloived by Maria.] 

Mrs. R. (sadly). — I'm a very miserable woman, Doc- 
tor. 

Dr — How so, madam ? 

Mrs. R. — Can you not see the deplorable change in 
my beloved daughter? 

Dr. — But I thought you desired it, madam? 



16 DOCTOR CURE-ALl/ 

[During this conversation Miss Kate can be heard talk- 
ing loudly in the next room.] 

Mrs. R. — Not any such change as that, Doctor. She 
was once a modest, well-behaved girl. What is she now ? 
I am ashamed to take her out, but if I leave her at 
home I'm sure to find her in mischief when I return. 
My heart is broken. [ Weeps.~] 

Dr. (anxiously). — -My dear madam, I am exceedingly 
sorry. 

[Noise of falling glass in private office. Dr. and Mrs. 
R. start toward the door.'] 
Miss Kate (looking out). — Don't be frightened. I 
only broke a few empty bottles. 

[Dr. and Mrs. R. take their seats.] 

Mrs. R. — I thought perhaps you could take her in 
hand, Doctor. There are rooms to let next door and 
I'm goiug to move there and bring her in every day for 
you to treat. We'll be around this way in the morning 
and then we'll stop in. I won't detain you now, for I 
saw a very stout woman who seemed to be coming here, 
and I think she is probably in a hurry to see you. 

[Enter Miss Kate and Maria.] 

Miss Kate. — I don't see how you stand it, Maria, here 
all day with a pokey old man. 

Mrs. R. (reprovingly). — Daughter! 

Mm Kate. — Well, he knows he's a pokey old man. 
He aint young, I'm sure. 

Mrs. R. — Good morning, Doctor. Come, daughter. 

Miss Kate. — Yes, yes, I was ready long ago, if you 
had only said so. Good morning, Doc, good morning, 
Maria ; hope you'll enjoy yourself. 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 17 

[Exit Mrs. R. and daughter.] 

Dr. (sorrowfully). — Maria, they're going to live next 
door. 

Maria. — Who? That crazy girl and her moaning 
mother ? 

Dr. — Yes ; how shall we endure it ? I feel sorry for 
the poor woman, but I couldn't stand her crying in here 
every day, and as for that girl, she'd break every bottle 
I have in the place. 

Maria. — Yes, indeedy. 

Dr. — And, Maria, she said a stout woman was coming 
here in a hurry. Do you think — 

[Violent ring. Maria admits Mrs. Scrawny, who 

has on a large suit, which is stuffed in every way to make 
her look as large as possible.'] 

Dr. (timidly). — Good morning, madam. 

Mrs. 8. — How dare you address me, sir ? Do you see 
the mischief you have wrought ? 

Dr. — You wanted to be plump. 

Mrs. 8. (indignantly). — Plump? Yes, but I didn't 
ask to be made like Barnum's fat woman. This very 
morning some rude boys called after me, " There goes 
the fat lady from the circus !" Now what are you going 
to do about it ? 

Dr. — Perhaps you could take No. — 

Mrs. 8 (savagely). — I won't take anything. 

Dr, — I'll tell you. Do a great deal of walking — 

Mrs. S. — Walking ! I'm all out of breath now from 
walking two blocks. Don't say any more. Don't speak 
to me. I just came in to mention that I would have my 
revenge. My husband even hinted something about tar 



18 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

and feathers. You'll hear from us. And just wait till 
you see Miss Seraphina Paddington, the lady who wanted 
to be tall. She's tall enough now to suit anybody. Why, 
she's like a telegraph pole. She's a laughing stock for 
the town. She bumps her head against the ceiling when- 
ever she stands up. She's just consulting her lawyer, 
and then she'll be here, mark my words ! she'll be here ! 

[Exit, slamming the door."] 

Dr. (looking very much frightened). — Maria, what am 
I to do ? For an innocent, well-meaning man, I've got 
myself in an awful fix. Just think, I'm threatened with 
the law, with tar and feathers, and with assassination, 
not to speak of being harassed by that wild girl and her 
wailing mother. I must flee from the town. I'll go 
this very minute. [Brings out a valise.] But stop, that 
dear little widow was to call again to-day, and I have 
failed to find her a husband. Can I face her ? Can I 
brave the others ? 

Maria. — Say, Doctor, you're a pretty good-looking 
fellow, if you're not young. 

Dr. — Yes, Maria, but that won't help me out of these 
scrapes. I can't even leave the town, for I haven't a 
cent to go with. 

Maria (smiling). — You're a kind-hearted man — in 
fact, you're nobility itself. 

Dr. — Thanks, Maria, but flattery won't help me now. 

Maria. — Yes, indeedy, it will. Don't you see ? You 
are a man to be proud of — the widow is looking for such 
a one. You need money ; she has it. 

Dr. (springing forward and grasping her hand). — A 
thousand thanks, Maria, for the hint. I'll take advan- 
tage of it. What a stupid fellow I was not to think of 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 19 

it myself. I've been in love with the widow all along 
and didn't know it. 

{Bell rings gently, ,] 

Dr. — There she is now, I know, for that isn't a mad 
ring. 

[Mrs. Blooming admitted.'] 

Mrs. B. — Good morning, Doctor. What ! not going 
away, I hope? 

Dr. — Yes, my dear madam, I find that I am a ruined 
man. I must begin life again in another town. 

Mrs. B. — Oh ! I am so sorry. But did you find — 

Dr. — Yes, I did find a man that is longing to call you 
his own. He would make a devoted husband, but, my 
dear madam, he is painfully poor — he hasn't one cent. 

Mrs. B. — What do I care for that ? I have money 
enough for both of us. Where is he? 

Dr. — My dear, he stands before you. 

Mrs. B. (looking pleased). — You, Doctor? 

Dr. (talcing her hand). — I have loved you from the 
moment you first stepped into this office. Will I do? 

Mrs. B. — Of course, you will. Don't you know that 
I meant you all the time ? I knew all about you from 
poor Theophilus. On his dying bed he begged me if I 
ever married again, to marry you. He said it was through 
you that he made the fortune that he left me. 

Dr. — Bless, you, my darling. And now could you 
take me at once? I have an unconquerable desire to 
leave in the eleven o'clock train. The nearest clergy- 
man will marry us, and we just have time for the cere- 
mony. 

Mrs. B. (handing him a parse). — Yes, we may as well 
start at once. But what about little Maria ? She must 



70 DOCTOR CURE-ALL 

have a generous sum to make up for losing her position 
As for the bottles — 

Maria, — I'll call in the first junk man and dispose of 
them. [Taking roll of bills which Mrs. B. gives her.'] 
Oh ! thank yon ! [Dancing about] Now mamma can 
have all she needs. Hurrah ! 

Dr. (glancing nervously toward the door). — Let us be 
off. [Packs valise hastily, Maria and Mrs. B. making 
frantic efforts to help.] Say, Maria, if you should con- 
clude to keep up the business yourself, just let your pa- 
tients have only half the amount of faith that I did. 
It's faith that works the cure, that's the secret of the 
business — the rest is only chocolate water — and when 
they have too much faith — well, you have seen the result^ 
[Dr. and Mrs. B. exit] 

Maria. — I guess I sha'n't keep up any faith and choc- 
olate-water business, but I'll lock up the inner office for 
the present and leave this room to the tender mercies of 
the enraged patients. There isn't anything here worth 
stealing. In a day or two I'll come back and dispose of 
the contents of the private office. I'm in luck, yes, in- 
deedy. 

[Exit] 

[Enter Mrs. Brown, Miss Jane Scrimpins, Mr. 
Ai.rHONSo De Jones, and Mrs. Scrawny. All looh 
angrily around the room, stamp their feet, bang on the- pri- 
vate office door, and in various ways show their displeasure 
at the Doctor's absence.] 

[Enter Mrs. Kotchkins and her daughter Kate.] 

Miss Kate. — Dear ! dear ! ma, I wonder what all this 
noise is about. 



DOCTOR CURE-ALL 21 

[The others stare at Miss Kate.] 

Miss Kate. — Oh! look at that funny fat lady, and 
what a red mustache that man has! and, I say, ma, how 
do you suppose that lady got such gray hair ? Whew ! 
here comes the tallest woman I ever saw. 

[Enter Miss Seraphina Paddington, made ex- 
tremely tall by the aid of a broomstick. She rushes an- 
grily from one end of the room to the other ', and then 
rushes out, slamming the door.~\ 

Mrs. B. — Dr. Cure-all made that poor afflicted crea- 
ture what she is. 

Miss Jane. — Yes, and he made me what I am. 
£ A. De J. — And lie's responsible for my appearance. 

Mrs. Scrawny. — And for mine. 

Miss Kate. — I suppose he's responsible for my actions, 
too. Eh, ma ? But he's beyond the reach of our re- 
venge now. I just met that dear little Maria, and she 
says that Dr. Cure-all has gone off never to return. In 
fact, he's gone off to get married to the widow of the 
man that he ate mud pies with in his youthful days. So 
we might as well make the best of the mischief he has 
wrought and return quietly to our homes. Dr. Cure-all 
has at least taught us a good lesson — which is, in the 
Words of the immortal Shakespeare : , 

"'Twere better to bear the ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of." 

Eh ma? 

CURTAIN. 



The Courting of Mother Goose 



AN ENTERTAINMENT 



BY 



Miss H. D. CASTLE 



CHAKACTEKS AND COSTUMES 

Man in the Moon. — Bend light wire in shape of sphere, cover 
with yellow cloth or thin paper, paint eyes, nose, and mouth, 
place light within sphere. Fasten sphere to crosspiece, place 
crosspiece on head of person personating, fasten securely. 
Drape shoulders in light yellow cloth, yellow smail clothes and 
stockings. 

Mother Goose. — Cap, spectacles, and old-fashioned dress. 

Santa Claus. — Fur coat and cap, long beard and hair. 

Jack Horner. — Boy with large piece of mince-pie. 

Old Woman who swept cobwebs from sky. — Mob cap and worn 
broom over shoulder. 

Little Boy Blue. — Dressed in blue, carries horn. 

Little Boo Peep. — Shepherdess dress, shepherd's crook. 

Mother Hubbard. — Mother Hubbard dress and bonnet, carries 
large bone. 

Little Bachelor. — Swallow-tailed coat, tall hat much bent, 
wheeling wheelbarrow. 

Little Bride. — Sits in wheelbarrow, old-fashioned bonnet bent 
in comical shape, broken bandbox, umbre la, and bird cage in 
wheelbarrow. 

Old Woman in Shoe. — Little girl in large pasteboard shoe, 
head out at top, dolls heads protruding from hole in side and at 
toe and heel. 

Little Bed Riding Hood. — Red cloak, basket on arm. 

King Cole. — Old-fashioned costume, knee breeches, etc. Wears 
crown with " King Cole " printed on front. 

Fiddlers Three. — Old fashioned costumes, carry fiddles. 

Jack. — Head bandaged, arm in sling. 

Jill. — Dilapidated pail on arm. 

Rock 'by-Baby. — Small child with broken cradle. 

Old Woman lt with rings on her fingers and bells on her toes." 

Bishop of Canterbury, — Rector's robes. 



The Courting of Mother Goose 



ACT I 

Scene 1 — Ordinary Koom 

Man in the Moon. — 

I'm The Man in the Moon. On this green earth below 
You call my face bright — mighty little you know! 
I lived with you once, and learned here, no doubt, 
To keep up appearances, turn best side out. 
Young lovers all rave o'er my " soft silver light," 
When they're out for a ramble. It's silver, all right, 
But my capital's borrowed, I'm in a sad plight. 
If the Sun should refuse to give credit, some night, 
The lovers and I would be all in the dark, 
No moonshine about it, not even a spark. 
The climate, in Moonland, is dreadful, you know, 
The soil is so barren that nothing will grow, 
No corn, no potatoes, no sugar, no wheat, 
My stomach just yearns for things savory, sweet. 
Once I'd turn up my nose with contemptuous sneeze, 
If my good mother offered me porridge and cheese. 
And fuel is scarce there, and I have to chop, 
So I take porridge cold, when I can't get it hot. 
And cheese is distressing for regular diet, 
[Hands on stomach.~\ 

5 



6 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

If you don't believe it, why some of you try it. 
Since the days of old Adam this fact has been known, 
Tisn't good for a man to be living alone. 
Now, I want a wife, to share my sad lot, 
Chop all the fuel and pile round the pot, 
Serve steaming porridge, and slice off the cheese, 
And love and obey me, while I take my ease. 
There's no time for fooling, I'm pressing my suit, 
I took return ticket and came by Star route. 

[Jack Horter eating large piece of mince-pie, comes on 

stage.'] 

Mother Goose, a respectable woman, they say, 

Is the one I've in mind. Can you tell me the way 

To the good woman's house, little urchin, I pray ? 

[Jack points, as he says " through pasture" at hay •stack.'] 

Go through the pasture, where little Boo Peep 
Is crying and hunting and calliDg her sheep ; 
Turn at the hay -stack, where little Boy Blue 
Lies lazily sleeping all the day through, 

Go up the hill 

Of Jack and Jill, 
In an old-fashioned house, close to grandfather's barn, 
She sits in a rocking-chair, spinning a yarn. 

[Exit Man in Moon. Jack to audience :] 

Now that old lunatic's going to spark mother ! 
Wouldn't he make just a jolly step-father? 
Give us nothing to eat but porridge and cheese, 
I'd rather live on mince- pie, if you please. 

[ Takes a bite, holds up plum.] 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 7 

There'd be nary a plum to pull with my thumb, 
If that barren and dreary old moon was my home. 
I don't believe he'll fool mother a bit, 
She may be a goose, but she's got mother wit ; 
But I'll take the short cut for home, and just warn her, 
Well spoil his fine game, sure as my name's Jack 
Horner ! 

[Takes bite of pie, and starts off on run.~] 

Scene 2 

[Old-fashioned room. Mother Goose sitting in chair, 
knitting. Jack Horner bursts in.'] 

Oh! say! mother, mother! the Man in the Moon 
Is coming a sparking ! he'll be here soon ! 
I hope you'll just hustle him out of the house, 
He's mean, and he's selfish, and poor as a mouse ; 
The Moon is all mortgaged — he aint worth a cent, 
Why even his moonlight, he says, is just lent. 
He wants you to chop all his wood, and cut cheese, 
And cook his old porridge, w T hile he takes his ease ; 
And you'll have to mind him, he said so, himself. 
Now, mother, you just lay him up on the shelf. 

[Knock at door. Jack runs out. Enter Man in Moon. 
Jack peeps in, and makes face at Man in Moon.] 

Man in Moon (bowing low). — 

Madam, I come wooing. You're witty, and you're wise ; 
The music of your melodies has reached the very skies, 
And lured me down a- wooing, and sighing for the prize. 
Come, sing your merry songs for me, and drive away 
dejection, 



8 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

For love of you, I spend my nights in sorrowful reflec- 
tion; 

Come, sing for me your melodies, so sweet and wise, and 
then, 

With accents turned to silver, send them down to earth 
again. 

Love, romance, high position will ever more be thine, 

And you will fill them royally, for you w 7 ere born to 
shine. 

I love you ! I adore you ! Sweet Mother Goose be mine ! 

[Kneels. Jack, peeping from scenes, or half -open door.'] 

Mighty sweet, old Mister Moon ' 
You know how to spoon. 
We'll fix you soon ! 

Mother G. — 

Law me ! how pretty you do talk ! I've always heard 

it said 
The moon made people love-sick, and kind of turned 

their head. 
Some people call you fickle, " inconstant moon," they say ; 
I shouldn't think, to hear you talk, you'd be at all that 

way. 
Judgin' from talk, I'd think you'd do the very best you 

could 
To wait upon the wirnmin folks, and chop the oven wood, 
And be a good pervider, as all good husbands should, 

Jack ( peeping out) — - 

That's the talk ! Give it to him, ma! 

Man in the Moon. — 

Ahem ! It may be, dearest madam, I may not agree with 
you; 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 9 

But 'twill be my joy to lift you to a higher, broader 

view. 
You have your own opinions — all women have, I find' — 
A little calm reflection will, doubtless, change your 

mind. 

Jack (peeping out). — 

Guess she has her opinion of you. 

Man in the Moon. — 

But little things like these should not two loving hearts 
divide ; 

Oh ! come with me ! Oh ! come with me, and be my beau- 
teous bride ! 

Jack.—*- 

We're a-comin', governor. 

Mother G. — 

Law me, you do talk pretty ! But then before I go, 
Perhaps I hadn't orter ask, but I'd kind of like to know 
If your house is pretty sizable, and is it painted red ? 
And is your wood all sawed and chopped and piled up 
in the shed ? 

Jack. — 

That's a good one, ma ! 

Mother G — 

And have you piles of beddin', and lots of feather beds ? 

Have you big and little spinnin' -wheels, and wool for 

spinnin' yarn ? 
And a good cow, and gentle horse a-standin' in the barn ? 
Is your cellar full of vegetables, all fresh and crisp and 

new? 
Have you cookin' and eatin' apples, to last the winter 

through, 



10 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

And scores of yeller punkins, all piled up nice and high ? 
It does beat all, my children are so fond of punkin-pie. 

Man in the Moon (in dismay). — 

Your children, ma'am ! your children ! your children, 

did you say ? 
I didn't know you'd children ! How many have you, 

pray? 

[Door bursts open and children troop in, headed by 
Jack, with large piece of mince-pie.'] 

Jack. — Guess we're all here; if we aint ma'll blow 
the dinner horn and call the rest. [Takes bite of pie.] 

[ Children gather about Man in the Moon.] 

Old Woman. — 

I am the old woman that soared so high, 
Sweeping the cobwebs from the sky. 
I know all about you, you can't fool me! 
I swept you up tidy, you know me, I see. 

Little Boy Blue. — 

Did you see my cow jump over the moon ? 

Little Boo Peep. — 

Did you steal my sheep? I bet you did! [Weeps,] 

Mother Hubbard. — 

Did you kill my dog, 'cause he laughed at the 
sport? Just like your mean tricks ! 

[Holds up bone, whistles and calls.] 

Here, Rover ! here, Rover ! 

Little Bachelor. — 

I'll pend my mice to eat up your cheese, you old 
moonshiner ! 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 11 

Old Woman in Shoe. — 

Give me some bread and molasses! bread and mo- 
lasses ! Don't you hear the children crying ? 

[ Crying behind scenes.] 

Little Bed Riding Hood. — 

Give me some cakes for grandma ! Give me some 
cakes for grandma ! 

[Jack Horner swallows last bit of pie and says:] 

I want some more mince-pie, governor! I'm 'most 
starved ! 

[ Children caper around Man in Moon, who edges to- 
ward door. Fiddlers play ; Boy Blue blows horn; 
Boo Peep calls " Co Nan, Co Nan." Mother Hub- 
bard whistles and calls dog ; children cry behind scenes; 
Man in Moon breaks through circle and runs out door; 
children cry, " Goody ! good ! hurrah ! etc. ; Jack Hor- 
ner turns summersault and says: "We settled him!" 
Mother Goose shakes finger at children and says: 
"You naughty children!" sinks into chair, holds sides 
and laughs.] 



ACT II 

Scene 1 

[Santa Claus' home. Candy jars, rocking horses, drums, 
horns, and other toys in profusion.] 

Santa Glaus. — 

Well, here 'tis nearly Christmas, and the presents are 

not ready ! 
There are horns, and drums, and jumping--jaeks for Tom, 

and Dick, and Teddy — 



12 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

Rattles and rings, and tops and things, and whistles by 

the score, 
And candy, candy, candy, till my house will hold no 

more. 

[Large dolls on shelf. Santa takes one up.~] 

Against these beautiful French dolls I enter a com- 
plaint — 

For Paris styles and fashions would puzzle any saint. 

They roll their eyes despairingly, beneath their lovely 
lashes, 

And say " Mamma " so sadly, when I tie their silken 
sashes : 

And how to tuck their petticoats, and how to sew the 
laces, 

And curl their lovely flaxen hair, and paint their pretty 
faces, 

Is too much for a clumsy man : [lays doll down] but all 
the women know 

Just how to tuck, and curl, and paint, and tie a hand- 
some bow. 

I want a woman's judgment, too, in regard to filling 
stockings. 

I know what tickles children — but then, His sad and 
shocking, 

How often, after Christmas day, the doctor comes a- 
knocking. 

I know a woman who could all these errors rectify — 

And she can toss a patty-cake, and bake a blackbird pie. 

And sing a song o' sixpence, and write fine poetry. 

Tiiis woman, wise and merry, would suit me to a T — 

And why they call her " Mother Goose " I never yet 
could see. 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 13 

I'd like to steal her goose some day, and change it to a 

saint — 
Do you suppose she'd cry " foul play/' and put in a 

complaint? 
And do you thiuk a woman, given to song and poetry, 
Would fancy such a rough and bluff old fellow? Let 

me see. 

[Contemplates himself in glass.] 

Well, you're not very handsome, my friend, I must admit, 
You'd better trim your whiskers, and black your boots 

a bit. 
In spite of writing poetry, she's sensible, I know. 

[ Goes to the door and calls.'] 

Ho, there ! hitch up the reindeers ! My mind's made 
up ; I'll go. 

[Blackens boots, trims whiskers, brushes hair, and other 
amusing pantomimes. Contemplates himself in glass.] 

Well, I don't look very dudish, after all my fuss. 
Why, I'm all in a tremble! for all I look so bluff. 
I'd better write a little speech — but then I'd just forget, 
And couldu't say it, if I did. Whew! I'm all in a 
sweat. 

[Mops forehead with large red handkerchief.] 

I guess I'll take some candy [fills pocket with candy], it 

won't do any harm, 
Most women folks like sweet things. Whew ! aint it 

getting warm ! 

[ Wipes forehead. Sleigh bells ring behind scenes.] 
Is that the sleigh already ! Wish I hadn't said I'd go ! 



14 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

I never felt so flustered in all my life, I know— 
Whew ! but it does beat everything how warm it seems 
to grow ! 

[ Goes out, mopping face.] 

Scene 2 

{Room in Motfier Goose's house. Group of children 
in various attitudes. Mother Hubbard at cupboard ; 
Boo Peep mending staff; Boy Blue mending horn; 
Jill trying to put hoop on pail ; Jack, with bandaged 
head, lying on old-fashioned settee ; Rock O'by-Baby, 
very small child, with broken cradle ; Old Woman 
mending broom; Red Riding Hood mending basket; 
Bachelor mending wheelbarrow; Brtde straightening 
bonnet ; Fiddlers mending fiddles ; King Cole with 
broken pipe and bowl, etc.] 

[Jack Horner rushes in."] 

Oh! say; don't you think here's another chap coming, ' 
In the toniest turnout — he just comes a-humming ! 
He looks kind of sheepish, and smiling, and slick, 
But I know, by the reindeers, it must be Saint Nic. 
I know he's come sparking — he's rigged up in his best— 
And Santa's the step-father I'd like the best! 
'Tis a place that calls loud for a saint, I should think. 
I hope mother'] 1 say cc yes " as quick as a wink. 

Boo Peep, — Is it the one that comes round Christmas? 

Jack. — The very identical one. 

Red Riding Hood. — And fills all our stockings? 

Jack. — Chock full and running over! Nothing mean 
about him ! 

Jack (Jill's partner, sitting upon settee). — We'd have 
Christmas all the time ! It cures my crown to think of it! 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 15 

Boy Blue. — I expect he'd get me a new born ! 

Boo Peep. — And me a crook ! 

Hock Cf by Baby. — And me a cradle! 

JUL — And us a pail ! 

Bachelor — And me a wheelbarrow ! 

Bride. — And me a bonnet ! 

Red Riding Hood. — And me a basket ! 

Old Woman. — And me a broom ! 

King Cole. — And me a pipe ! 

Fiddlers. — And us some fiddles! 

Jack Horner. — And think of all the good things to 
eat ! Oh ! my ; candy, and plums by the bushel, and 
mother to make the mince-pies! [Smacks lips.~\ 
We'll all wash oar faces, and comb up our hair, 
And put on our very best company air. 
Girls, put on clean aprons, and fix up your best : 
Boys, dust off your jackets, and pull down your vests : 
And all mind your manners — no sauce, now, you know! 
We'll all do our best to make this thing go. 

[Children rush around, calling: " Where's the wash- 
basin ?" " Where's the soap ?" " Where's the comb ?' ' 
"I can't find the brush!" "Button my apron!" 
"Brush my jacket!" They ivash, comb, brush, and put 
on clean aprons — boys sweeping each other ivith brooms .] 



ACT III 

Mother Goose's Room 

[To make fire-place in Mother G.'s room — Take side 
from large dry-goods box, excepting one board at top 
for under shelf; take boards from top of box, nail on 
projecting board for mantel-piece ; hang curtain above 



16 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

mantel- piece, so that eome one can drop presents in at 
top of box without being seen; paint inside of box 
black, or cover with black calico ; old fashioned and- 
irons, shovel, and tongs. Mother G. in rocking- 
chair, knitting — sleigh-bells behind scenes. Mother 
G. listens.] 

Mother G. — 

Well, if it was time for Saint Nic to come round, 

I should say, there's his bells ! 'Tis the very same sound. 

I declare they are stopping, [knock at door] and he's 

coming here! 
Now what is he after ! It's dreadfully queer ! 

[Stops before glass and straightens cap , smooths apron as 
she goes to door, opens door, Santa enters, cap in 
hand j bowing profoundly.] 

Santa. — 

Good afternoon, madam, and how do you do? 

I hope you are well, and your family, too. 

Mother G. (courtesies). — 

We're all middlin', thank you. The same wish to you. 

Santa (wiping face). — 

We're having warm weather for this time of year. 

Jack H. (peeping in), — 

He ! he ! he ! He's scared most to death. 

Mother G. (setting chair). — 

Yes, ten below zero. Won't you take a cheer? 

Mother G. (seats herself in rocking chair and knits com- 
posedly). — 
You're around in good season, and in broad daylight. 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 17 

S'pose you've too many stockings to fill in one night ; 
Or, may be, your almanac isn't just right. 

Santa (aside). — 

Oh, dear! hang the stockings ! and almanacs too; 

If I don't begin, I shall never get through ! 

[Pulls handkerchief from pocket and scatters candy over 
floor.'] 

Jack. — 

Oh, my! just see the candy lying round loose! 

Santa. — 

I've wasted my sweetness, dear madam, you see, 

Pray, pardon an awkward old fellow like me. 

Mother G. (brushes up candy with dust-pan and turkey 

wing). — 
Oh ! that is no matter ; no matter at all. 

[Santa tries to get out of Mother G.'s way and knocks 
over work-basket] 

Mother G. — 

If you look at that basket it's ready to falL 

[Picks up basket."] 
Jack. — 
He ! he ! he ! a bear in a china shop! 

Santa. — 

Madam, I'm flustered ; I think you know why 

As well as I do, by the laugh in your eye ; 

You know I'm in love, and you know it's with you — 

[Aside] 

(There, the murder is out ! and I'm glad of it too) 
Man is never so awkward, so some one has said, 



18 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

As when he's in love. We agree cm that head. 

But I'm always awkward, for I must tell true • 

And however I find the assurance to woo 

A poet and singer, dear madam, like you, 

Is a wonder, [Aside] I'll die before I get through! 

Jack. — 

Why don't ma help him out ! 

Santa. — 

I couldn't talk sentiment, if I should try, 

And a bear is as graceful and pleasing as L 

Jack. — 

And knows how to hug. 

Santa.' — 

But I've a snug home, I think it's as sweet 

As the one in the song, but, to make it complete, 

It needs a good woman to sit on the hearth, 

And brighten it into a heaven on earth. 

'T would be joy to shut trouble and care from your life. 

If you would sit there as my dear, honored wife. 

Jack. — 

We're all willin', ma. 

Mother G. — 

Well, Tve no objection, though maybe I aint 

Just fitted to be keepin' house for a saint. 

Jack. — 

Yes you be, ma ! 

Mother G. — 

But, before we shall settle the matter for good, 

I'll call in the children. I think that you should 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 19 

Just count them, and take a good look at the brood. 
Some men don't like children, if they're ever so good. 
The last spark I had was light-headed and queer, 
He took one good look, and, sakes ! how he did clear ! 
He's shining around Mother Earth now, I hear. 
A mother's a mother all the days of her life : 
You must marry them all, if you make me your wife. 

Santa. — 

I honor your feelings, oh ! woman divine ! 

" The more, 'tis the merrier," is a maxim of mine ; 

And where you show one, I can show ninety -nine, 

I'll father yours, if you'll mother mine. 

[Mother G. opens door ; children come in quietly, and 
stand, demurely bowing and courtesy in g.~] 

Santa. — 

Why, bless you, dear children ! it does my heart good 

To see such a good-looking, mannerly brood ! 

Mother G. (leads up King Cole). — 
Here*s my oldest, King Cole, 
A good, jolly soul. 

Santa (shakes hands). — 

And sadly in need of a new pipe and bowl. 

[ Goes to fire-place and calls.'] 
Ho, there ! a new pipe and bowl 
For jolly King Cole. 

[Jingling of sleigh-bells overhead — pipe and bowl appear 
in fireplace — Santa presents it to King Cole, who 
bows low, seats himself in lounging attitude, bowl on 
table, pipe in mouth.'] 



20 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

Mother G. (beckons to Fiddlers ThreeJ. — 
These fiddlers three 
Make music for me, 
And for my son Cole, 
The jolly, good soul. 

Santa (examining fiddle), — 
Hi diddle, diddle! 
That's a bad fiddle ! 

Ho ! there ! Fiddles for three. 

[Fiddles appear, fiddlers bow low and take places behind 
King Cole.] 

Mother G. — 

This is my daughter, who sailed so high, 

Sweeping the cobwebs from the sky. 

Santa. — 

The astronomers bless you, and so do I. 
A broom for my daughter, who sailed so high, 
Sweeping the cobwebs from the sky. 

[ Old woman takes broom, courtesies, and takes seat ; knits.'] 

Mother G. — 

This is Dame Hubbard. Her eyes are red 

With weeping. Her faithful dog is dead. 

Santa. — 

Send down a dog that can stand on his head, 

For poor Mother Hubbard. Her dog is dead. 

[Large toy dog appears, or, better still, a well-behaved live 
one. Mother Hubbard goes to cupboard for bone. 
Takes seat. Knits.] 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 



21 



Mother G. — 

This is my daughter with bells on her toes, 

She makes sweetest music wherever she goes ; 

But her white horse is dead — she has met with a loss, 

She rides him no longer at Banbury Cross. 

Santa. — 

Send a white horse, the fastest that goes, 

For my merry daughter with bells on her toes. 

[ White rocking-horse appears. Old looman leads it to one 
side, mounts, rocks.^ 

Mother G. — 

This is Boo Peep, 

Who looks after the sheep. 
Santa. — 

Send down a staff 

That will make Boo Peep laugh. 

[Staff decorated with ribbons."] 

Boo Peep. — 

Ooo ! Thank you, sir. 

Mother G. — 

This is Boy Blue. He, too, tends the sheep, 

When not under the hay- stack, fast asleep. 

Santa. — 

Give us a horn, the best that I make, 

That toots loud enough to keep Boy Blue awake. 

Mother G. — 

Here's Jack and Jill, 
They look quite ill, 

They went up after w T ater, 
" Jack fell down 



22 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

And broke his crown, 

And Jill came tumbling after." 

Santa. — 

Hello ! there ! A pail for Jack and Jill. 

[ Gives to Jill.] 
This one won't break if it rolls down hill. 

[Jill courtesies. Jack bows. Take places at back or side 
of stage, Jill on inverted pail, Jack with head in 
Jill's lap.~] 

Mother G. — 

This is " Rock O'by-Baby, on the tree top, 
When the wind blew her cradle would rock, 
But when the bough broke she had a sad fall, 
Down came Rock O'by, cradle and all." 

Santa. — 

Sand a stout cradle for Rock O'by-Baby. 

Swing high, and swing low, in it, my little lady. 

[Mother G. places cradle at one side, sets Rock O'by- 
Baby in it ; she rocks. ,] 
Mother G. — 

This is my daughter, who lives in a shoe, 
And has so many children she don't know what to do. 

Santa. — 

Send down a big basket of 'lasses and bread. 

[To Old Woman :] 
No wonder your duties are turning your head, 
But don't spank the dears, when you put them to bed. 

[Old Woman takes place, eats piece of bread and mo- 



THE COURTING OE MOTHER GOOSE 23 

Mother G.— 

And this is the " Bachelor, who lived by himself, 

And all the bread and cheese he had he laid upon a 

shelf ; 
The rats and the mice, they made such a strife, 
He was forced to go to London to buy him a wife. 
The gates were so broad and the streets were so narrow, 
He was forced to bring his wife home on a wheelbarrow. 
Wheelbarrow broke, wife got a fall, 
Down came wheelbarrow, little wife and all." 

Santa. — 

Send along a wheelbarrow, the best one on the shelf. 

[To Bachelor:] 

I have been a bachelor: I know how 'tis myself. 

Now send a wedding bonnet for a pretty little bride. 
[Mother G. ties bonnet on Bride.] 

Santa. — 

Now jump into your carriage, and try another ride. 
[Santa lifts Bripe into wheelbarrow. Bachelor 
wheels it to one side.'] 

Mother G — 

Well, you must be a saint ! few mortal men will 

So smilingly settle a milliner's bill. 

Mother G. — 

This is little Red Riding Hood, 

Who goes all alone through the lonesome wood, 

To carry poor grandma something good. 

The wolves may growl, and the winds may blow, 

But on will little Red Riding Hood go. 



24 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

Santa.~~- 

Send down a basket of something good, 

For the brave little girl in the pretty red hood. 

Mother G.— 

'Tis a long way to grandma's for such a little mite, 

So sib you down, Ked Ridiug Hood, and eat a little bite. 

[Red Riding Hood takes seat, eats cake."] 

Mother G. — 

This is "Jack Horner, 
Who sat in a corner 
Eating a Christmas pie." 

Santa. — 

Send down a big mince-pie, chock full of plums, 

For this big little boy to pull out with his thumb. 

[Jack says, " Oh ! jolly I " when pie first appears, but 
makes his most mannerly bow when Santa presents 
it, takes seat in corner, eats, pulls out and holds up 
plums.'] 

Mother G.~ 

Of all good providin' I ever did see, 

Why, this does beat all ! it reely beats me. 

I thought that my Gander was one of the best, 

I aint nndin' fault, poor soul, he's at rest. 

[ Wipes eyes on apron.~] 
I'm goin' to say yes to your little request, 
You sha'n't loose nothin' by it, we'll feather your nest. 

Jack. — 

Now you're shoutin' ! 

[Santa embraces Mother G. Children clap hands.] 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 25 

Santa (rubbing hands). — 

Now, " this I will do, and it makes my heart merry, 

I'll send for the Bishop of old Canterbury.' ' 

Jack. — 

111 fetch him, father, quicker'n lightnin' ! 
[Runs out.~] 

Santa. — 

That's a smart little fellow, and spry on his feet. 

Mother G. — 

But almost too fond of good things to eat. 

[Enter Jack and Bishop in rector's robes. Children 
bow and courtesy. Santa and Mother G. take place 
before Bishop.] 

Bishop. — 

Do you take this woman for your wedded wife, 

To pay all her bills the rest of your life ? 

Santa. — 
I do. 

Bishop. — 

Provide for her children, and fill every stocking, 

And promise to do nothing really shocking ? 

Sinta. — 
1 will. 

Bishop, — 

Do you take this man your husband to be, 

To obey and to honor when you can agree ? 

Mother G. — 
I do. 



26 THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 

Bishop. — 

Will you knit Christmas stockings for children and 

youth, 
And spin your yarn fine without stretching the 

truth ? 

Mother G. — I will. 

Bishop. — 

Put the ring on her finger and give her a kiss. 

I pronounce words correctly, when I don't miss. 

[Santa puts ring on Mother G.'s finger and kisses her.'] 

Jack. — Three cheers for father and mother ! [ Children 
cheer.'] 

Jack. — Three cheers for the Bishop ! [ Children cheer.] 

[Santa and Mother G. escort Bishop to door. Chil- 
dren bow and courtesy as they pass.] 

Mother G.— 

Well, I must be knitting those stockings, my dear. 
Will you please hold the yarn? Here's a good easy 
cheer. 

[They seat themselves affectionately. Mother G. winds 
yam, Santa holds skein. Fiddlers play, and chil- 
dren sing one verse of " Home, Sweet Home " Some of 
children eat candy, pie, cake, and play with gifts — a 
happy domestic scene. Head of Man in the Moon 
appears above screen, or curtain, at back of stage.] 

Man in the Moon. — 

A comforting sight for a man to behold, 

When bis cheese is all moldy, his porridge all cold ! 



THE COURTING OF MOTHER GOOSE 27 

It may be that I am too mad and too far, 
But I'll try them a clip with a shooting star. 

[Flings star, or some bright substance, at Santa.] 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



If used as a church entertainment, where it is cus- 
tomary to give the Sabbath-School children a treat, this 
might be added: Curtain rises on tableau. Mother 
G., Mother Hubbard, Old Woman with broom, Old 
Woman with bells, seated around fire-place knitting; 
King Cole with pipe and bowl ; stockings hanging 
around mantel piece ; Santa near front of stage. 

Santa. — 

'Tis the night before Christmas, and all in our house 

Are as happy and cozy and snug as a mouse. 

Now, children, come in, my good wife and I, 

And our oldest children will all of us try 

To make this the merriest Christmas you know. 

So come along children ! come on ! Here we go I 

Play march while children pass across stage and re- 
ceive stockings, remainder of Mother G.'s children mix 
in with others. Santa, Mother G, and " oldest chil- 
dren " present stockings as children pass — new supplies 
coming down chimney. 



Vice Versa 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 



MRS. E. J. H. GOODFELLOW 



CHARACTERS 

Minnie Gray, ticket agent. 
Will Brown, a returned traveler. 
Bessie Steele, baggage-mistress. 
Sam Black, a father with two boys and 

infant (rag doll). 
Katie Green, letter-carrier. 
Ben Green, housekeeper. 
Bridget, servant. 
Jessie White, census enumerator. 



VICE VERSA 



In Act I the platform is arranged as a Station Wait- 
ing-room. A three-sided clothes-horse may be used as 
the Ticket Office. It should be covered with dark mus- 
lin, except the middle side, which should be toward the 
audience. The space between the top and second round 
should be uncovered and used as the window. The 
right and left sides of the clothes-horse are placed par- 
allel with the sides of the platform, thus forming an in- 
closure. Advertisements of Excursions, Schedules of 
Railroad Companies, and Chromos can be hung on the 
walls and under the w T indow of the Office. 



ACT I 

[As curtain rises, Minnie Gray is discovered at window 
counting tickets. While placing them in piles, she solilo- 
quizes.'] 

I am afraid I'm a little late this morning, but fortu- 
nately the train is behind time, so I can arrange matters 
here in the office. Here are my commutation tickets, 
and here are the excursion tickets, and here are the new 
schedules. Now, where is that letter of instructions 
about rates of travel? Oh ! here it is [opening a letter]. 
Why no, this is my last milliner's bill ! What a funny 

5 



b VICE VEI3SA 

bonnet George Miller made me; I screamed when I saw 
it. Let me see how he has itemized the bill. 

Item 1. One bonnet with nothing on it, $5.00 
Pretty high price for a common American straw. 
Item 2. Three feathers for front, - - 4.00 
Item 3. A bunch of flowers for back, - 2.00 
Item 4. Three yards of ribbon to tie on with, 2 50 



Total, ------ -$13.50 

Well ! I'll take another look at it. [Takes out a gro- 
tesquely trimmed bonnet from box, views it critically, then 
ties it on.] I think I shall have to remodel this very 
artistic bonnet, Mr. George. You're a Miller, but never 
a milliner. 

[Enter Will Brown in traveling costume, carrying 
satchel, umbrella, etc. When nearly opposite window, he 
yawns, and remarks, sleepily. ] 

Well, I really believe I was sound asleep when the 
train stopped. No wonder. Who could travel three 
days with no companion and not spend some time in 
dreamland? However, I am glad to be in old Wollef- 
doog once more. I wonder if folks around here will 
find me much changed after an absence of five years? 
This place does not look very familiar ; but I'll look 
after my trunk and then start up the road. It may be 
I will meet some familiar face on my way to my old 
home. Halloo ! Where's the baggage-room ? It used 
to be opposite that door. I'll ask the ticket agent ; he'll 
know [looks toward the window]. Humph ! If there 
isn't a young lady at the window ! [Advances, takes off 
his hat, and bows.] Excuse me, Miss ; I am looking for 
the baggage- master. Can you tell me where he may be 



VICE VERSA 7 

found ? I thought of asking the ticket agent, but he 
doesn't seem to be about, either. 

Minnie (counts tickets aloud). — Forty-seven, forty- 
eight, forty-nine, fifty. [Holds them and looks inquir- 
ingly at Will ] Did you address me ? 

\_He repeats."] I am looking for the baggage-master 
or ticket agent. Are they both out ? 

Minnie. — I am the ticket agent. 

Will. — Oh ! I beg your pardon. Where can I see the 
baggage-master ? 

[Minnie calls.] Bessie ! [Bessie comes in from door 
opposite to ivhere Will entered. Minnie nods her head 
toward Will.] This young gentleman wishes to ascer- 
tain if his trunk is in the baggage-room. 

Bessie (jingling brass checks). — All right, sir ; this 
way, please [moving toward the door]. 

Will (looks in bewilderment from one to the other and 
stammers). — Why ! Why ! How's this ? Lady ticket 
agent, lady baggage-mistress. Oh ! Ah — baggage — 

Bessie. — Baggage-mistress at your service [boivs low]. 
Must be a stranger in this town, aren't you? 

Will. — Well, yes; rather; I haven't been here for 
five years. This office and its officers have been changed 
since I went away. Men used to hold the positions you 
and your friend now 7 occupy. 

Bessie. — Oh ! you haven't been in Wollefdoog then 
since Woman's Suffrage went into effect? I guess you 
will find affairs changed somewhat since then. Won't 
he, Minnie ? 

Minnie (laughing). — I shouldn't wonder, especially 
if he wants his hair cut, or tooth extracted. 

Will. — Do women follow all the professions ? Why, 
what do the men do ? 



8 VICE VERSA 

Bessie (smiling and jingling checks). — -Oh ! they are 
kept quite busy. I guess you will find out. Your 
check, if you please, and I will find your baggage. 

[Exit Will and Bessie. Minnie goes on with her 
counting. .] One two, three, four, five [puts down tickets, 
leans her head on her left hand and drums idly with her 
right, as if in deep thought. Enter Bessie, who dances 
up to Minnie.] 

Bessie. — Who was he, Min ? Handsome, wasn't he ? 
Did you find out where he was going ? Do lend me 
your mirror ; the wind blew my hat off out on the plat- 
form, and I don't want to look like a fright when the 
next train comes in. [She arranges her hair.'] Do you 
think this cap is more becoming back of my bang, or 
over it ? 

Minnie. — Yes, I guess so. 

Bessie — "Guess so," which? 

Minnie. — Oh! I don't know; I was thinking of your 
first question about the young man. There was some- 
thing familiar about his face. I shouldn't wonder, Bess, 
if it were Will Brown. You know he went to Califor- 
nia about five years ago. 

Bessie — That's a fact ; so he did. ^slLjwe'll find 
out before long. [ Whistle is heard outside.'] Oh ! bother, 
there comes the train ! Want a caramel, Min? I got 
them on the last train. [Hands Minnie a box of cara- 
mels.] By the by, it was little Nellie Vance. I had to 
laugh when I heard her shrill soprano call out [sings in 
a high key]: "Here you are, nice, fresh carameJs; only 
ten cents a box !" 

Minnie {taking a caramel from the box). — You had 
better trot out of here if you expect any baggage to go 
on that train. [Exit Bessie. Minnie takes up mirror 



VICE VERSA 9 

and arranges her bang, singing softly one verse of " Oh! 
where, tell me, where has my Highland laddie gone?" 
or any other sentimental song, then sighs and leans her 
head on her hand^\ I wonder what he thought of us in 
our positions ? He didn't look very much enchanted 
with the latter, at any rate. Well ! well ! No passen- 
gers for this train ; I'll shut up the window and go for 
some ice-cream. [Covers window — curtain falls — the 
office can be removed from the stage while it is made to 
look as much like a road as practicable.^ 



ACT II 

Will {entering door on left side and advancing toward 
centre of stage, carrying his umbrella, satchel, and linen 
duster). — Well, I wonder if I shall find the houses and 
occupants as much changed as the station and its offi- 
cials. Quite a stirring scene that was. The Miss Ticket 
Agent is quite a heart-breaker, and the baggage-mis- 
tress is a saucy little baggage herself. 

[Man's voice just outside right-hand door."] 

Come, Johnnie, hurry along. Georgie, don't hang 
onto my coat. 

[Sam Black appears, walking hurriedly ; he has in 
left hand a valise and paper bundle. Under his right 
arm he carries a small child in horizontal position ; two 
little boys follow directly back of him, the smaller one 
holding on to his coat tail. lie is looking over his shoulder 
at this child and does not see Will. They meet at middle 
of stage.~\ 



10 VICE VERSA 

Will* — Who comes here? Will wonders never cease? 
Hallo! old fellow! what's the row? [Sam turns.'] 
Why I declare ! Sam Black ! 
. Sam. — Will Brown ! Why, how you're changed. 
[Both put down luggage and shake hands. The little boys 
open the valise and take from it a whistle, whip, and horse 
lines, scattering the clothing. They caper round the stage 
and go out at left door, while the gentlemen continue con- 
versation.'] 

Will. — What's the matter, Sam ? You seem to be 
in tribulation. Haven't lost your wife, have you? 
Don't you have the post-office now ? 

Sam. — Well, no, yes, and not exactly either. My 
wife was appointed to the office last term, and I — yes, I 
guess, I was elected housekeeper at the same time. I 
take the children occasionally to their paternal grand- 
mother's to spend a week, as I am doing now. She 
lives at the next station. Bless her dear old heart! she 
don't believe in Woman's Suffrage. 

Will. — Woman's Suffrage again, eh ? It's all over 
town, is it? 

Sam. — Oh ! yes ; the biggest part of it. There are 
only a few peaceful homes left. Blacksmiths, masons, 
and carpenters have the best of it around here, nowa- 
days. 

Will. — Where's my old friend, Ben Green? He 
graduated in medicine before I left ; has he his office at 
the old homestead ? 

Sam. — -Oh ! yes ; you'll find him at home, sure 
enough, but the sign reads: " Dr. Jennie Green." His 
wife deals out the pills and powders, and rides around 
town. Whew! there's the whistle.' Come, boys. 
Where are the rogues? Oh! they're at the station. 



A 



tAA' 



fh 



VICE VERSA 11 

[Looks around for valise, discovers it opened, etc.] Oh! 
say now ; look here. What a fix ! 
Will (laughing). — Here, let me help. 

[Sam puts the baby on the ground behind him and they 
jumble the articles pell-mell into valise. Sam rushes off, 
leaving the baby. Will looks after him, laughing heart- 
ily ; turns to pick up his satchel, discovers baby.~] Whew ! 
ee — no, thank you, Sam. [Calls], Sam! [Picks up 
baby and rushes toward door; meets Sam at door, who 
appears breathless.] 

Sam. — Oh ! thanks ; you see I forgot him. 
[Exit Sam.] 

Will (looking after him). — Oh! you're a thousand, 
thousand times welcome, my lad. I wonder if I'm alive. 
[ Takes a paper out of his pocket] Yes, I can read, I can 
hear the sound of my own voice. Pinch yourself, my 
man, and see if you can feel. [Pinches his ear and nose.] 
Yes ; Fm all here, and now I'll proceed and investigate 
further. [As he stoops he finds paper bundle which Sam 
has left. While he examines it a faint whistling is heard 
back of right -hand door. A female letter-carrier appears. 
Her dress should be gray ; leather satchel is strapped over 
right shoulder and hangs at left side ; she wears a letter- 
carrier's cap, and in her hand she carries several letters. 
When at middle of stage she stops whistling and reads 
inscriptions :] Miss Minnie Gray, Miss Bessie Steel, Miss 
Jessie White — all in the same handwriting, I do declare. 
I wonder if they are wedding invitations? [Holds them 
up to the light.] I really think that is Ned Jones' writ- 
ing. I just believe they are invitations to his birthday 
party. If there isn't one for me I guess I won't vote 



12 VICE VERSA 

for him for Coroner. [Looks in bag and takes out several 
letters.] Oh! yes; here it is. [Reads.] Miss Katie 
Green. All right, Neddie ; you'll get my vote. I know 
none of the girls want that horrid office, viewing dead 
bodies, and actually touching them, I suppose. [Shud- 
dering.'] I guess we'll all vote for him. [Will, who is 
still engaged with his baggage, but has advanced to centre 
of stage, bumps against Katie and the letters jail on the 
floor.] 

Katie. — Well, I never ! 

Will. — Good gracious, what's this ? I beg your par- 
don. I did not see you. [Stoops to pick up letters. 
Aside.] Another feature of the investigation, I sup- 
pose. Looks like a letter-carrier. [Aloud.] Any let- 
ters for me, ma'am ? 

Katie. — If I knew your name and address, it might 
be that I would say yes. 

Will (aside). — Whew ! a woman, a letter-carrier, and 
a poet. [Aloud, bowing.] William Brown, at your 
service. I'm a traveler, just returning to his native 
town. 

Katie. — Well, now, I shouldn't wonder if this postal 
card to Ben Green was from you. [Beads aloud.] " Ex- 
pect to see me in a few days. Your old friend, W. B." 
I was just wondering who it was from. 

Will. — Do letter-carriers generally read all the postal 
cards to be delivered on their route ? 

Katie. — Of course, what else would relieve the monot- 
ony of this tramp, tramp, and how could they help it ? 
but as this was to my brother Ben, I felt extra curious. 

Will. — You are — 

Katie (courtesying). — Katie Green, just come into her 



VICE VERSA 13 

present position. You had better go up and see Ben. 
He has nothing to do but stay at home and do the trifles 
around the house. Good-bye. [Starts off, but looks back 
to say :] Maybe you'll meet your old friend, Jessie 
White, on the way. She is the census enumerator this 
spring. 

Will (looking after Katie). — Well, of all the rights ! 
Girls advocating Woman's Rights ! 

ACT III 

[Stage arranged as a disordered room; Ben Green 
dressed in a dilapidated dressing-gown, wash toivel pinned 
across chest and hanging lengthwise in front of him ; so- 
liloquizes while handling pans, etc., which should be on a 
table.'] 

Well, I think I can get a dinner all right, if I did make 
a few mistakes at breakfast. How was a fellow to know 
that sausages did not have to be fried in butter ? Biddy 
put butter in the pan when she fried potatoes. I did 
have a lot of gravy, that's a fact [shrugs shoulders'], and 
then when I read on the self-raising buckwheat package 
that the cakes had to be baked as soon as mixed, of 
course I put them in the oven ; I'm sure that's the way 
they bake bread. Well, Bridget, who is about to vacate 
these premises for her three days' jury bench, will be 
back to dinner at six, and I'll just get things started 
before she goes. 

[Enter Biddy in out-door costume, reading from a slip 
of paper, in her Irish brogue.] 

Aint it foine, just? "Miss Bridget O'Flanagan 
(that's me), you are hereby notified and required to ap- 



14 VICE VERSA 

pear in Court of Common Pleas (and plaze I'll be afther 
doing it), in the town of Wollefdoog, to serve as a juror 
in said Court. John Jones, Sheriff." You see the sheer- 
off writ it hisself to me, Miss Bridget O'Flanagan. 

Ben. — O Biddy! wait a minute; tell me how to 
make a rice pudding. 

Biddy. — Ouch, shure, now, Misther Green, you 
wouldn't be afther shtopping me to ax such a simple 
question as that ? Just take your rice and milk and 
sugar ; then stir them up and put in the oven. Make 
a quart pudding. 

Ben. — And O Biddy ! how do you broil shad ? 

Biddy. — Faith, Misther Green, you'll kill me entirely. 
Broil shad, is it? Why, put it on a gridiron on top of 
the stove. Arrah ! now I must be agoing, or they'll find 
the mon guilty afore I git there, and that's what he is, 
too. 

{Exit Biddy.] 

Ben. — Good-bye, Miss Jury-woman O'Flanagan ; I'll 
show you and Dr. Jennie that my capabilities are equal 
to this occasion. Let me see. My bill of fare is to be : 
Broiled shad, mashed potatoes, and rice pudding. I 
chose three easy things so that I could not make any mis- 
takes. I'll get them all done now, and then warm them 
up at the time wanted. Here's the article called a grid- 
iron, I suppose. {Holds up a gridiron.'] Dr. Jennie told 
Bridget the shad was too dry the last time we had it, that 
she ought to have buttered it. Well, I'll butter it now, 
and then I'll put it on the top of the stove, and leave the 
lids on so that it won't burn, while I make mv pudding. 
[ Goes out with the gridiron, then returns.] There, now, 
I'll make my pudding. Biddy said, " a quart pudding," 
I heard Dr. Jennie tell her how to make a pound cake 



VICE VERSA 15 

the other day. It was a pound of butter, a pound of 
sugar, a pound of flour ; so of course a quart pudding is 
a quart of milk, a quart of rice, and a quart of sugar. 
Ben, my lad, you've got a memory worth having. [Takes 
a big pan and goes through motions of making the pud- 
ding.'] Now, if that little chap up-stairs will sleep until 
I wash the potatoes and put them on, perhaps he'll let 
me have my smoke and read the paper. [Picks up a pan 
of potatoes ; a knock is heard ; Will enters at the right- 
hand door.] 

Will. — Hey ! Here you are. How are you ? 

Ben. — How are you ? But I don't exactly recognize 
you. 

Will. — Don't know me ? Why, I'm your old friend 
Will Brown. 

Ben. — Why, old fellow, glad to see you ; come in ; 
come right in. 

Will. — You didn't receive my postal card, I know ; 
for I saw Miss Letter-Carrier reading it as I came along. 
Queer times here in Wollefdoog, I should say. 

Ben. — Yes, yes ; so you met Katie, did you ; reading 
postals? Woman's curiosity will crop out, you see ; sit 
down and see me in the capacity of housekeeper. I tell 
you, I'm doing things about right ; shad's on, pudding's 
in oven, nothing to do but pare and mash these potatoes 
and put them on. [ Gives Will a chair, and starts back 
in a listening attitude.'] Oh ! there's the young hopeful. 
Hold this a moment until I get him. [Gives Will 
the pan and goes out at right-hand door, returning in a 
minute with a large rag doll, sits down with it on his 
hnee.] 

Will. — Shall I pare these potatoes while you feed the 
1 jlvy : 



16 VICE VERSA 

[Ben picks up cup and spoon from table, then puts them 
down, and begins to pin a towel under the baby's chin.~] 

Ben. — Yes, I wish you would. Here, you Frankie ! 
what's to pay ? Straighten yourself. Look, Will, he's 
getting blue in the face. What will I do with him ? 

[Will starts up ; a knock is heard.~] 

Will— I'll go, 

\Enter Jessie White, as Census Enumerator. She has 
on a boy's jaunty hat, and carries a large portfolio un- 
der her arm.~\ 

Jessie. — I am taking the census in this neighborhood. 
Is Dr. Green in ? 

Ben {calls). — Oh ! yes ; it's all right, Miss Census 
Taker. Do come here, Jessie, and tell me what's the 
matter with this child. My senses are so nearly gone 
that there won't be any left for you to take. 

[Jessie drops her book, runs across the room and snatches 
the baby from Ben.] 

Jessie. — Why, Ben, you have run a pin into its blessed 
little chin. [ Unpins the towel.~\ There ! there ! the 
pretty little tootsy wootsy. \_To Ben.] Here, give me 
the cup and I'll feed him while you give me the ages and 
occupations of your household. \_Aside.~] Relieve your 
friend of that pan of potatoes. Why don't you intro- 
duce him? 

Ben. — Why, you used to know him ; don't you re- 
member Will Brown ? \_Aloud.~\ Permit me, Miss 
White, to present Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown, Miss Jessie 
White, our new Census Enumerator. 

[Ben takes pan from Will, while Will and Jessie 
shake hands. Will then picks up portfolio.~\ 



VICE VERSA 17 

Will — Allow me to return the office property to the 
officer. How do you like public life, Miss White? 

Jessie. — To tell the truth, nut at all. I muet confess 
I prefer the old occupations best, and so I reallv believe 
do the other girls. We miss our music, painting, and 
household duties. [Turning to Ben.] O Ben! run 
quick, there's something burning. 

Ben. — Shouldn't wonder if it's that pudding. Jessie, 
what's the matter with these potatoes ? They won't 
mash. 

Jessie {looking into the pan). — Why, you haven't 
cooked them. 

Ben. — Do you cook them first ? 

Jessie (laughing). — Why, yes, we generally do. 
Have you forgotten that pudding, Ben ? 

Ben. — That's so, I had ; you can't expect a fellow to 
attend to potatoes and puddings at the same time, can 
you ? 

Jessie. — Attend to two p's? Certainly. AVhy, I ex- 
pect to look after my p's and q's ; that is, propound 
puzzling questions and queries. 

[Ben runs out, returning in a moment with an alarmed 
expression and says :] 

O Jessie! that rice is bewitched ; it has run all over 
the oven, down on to the stove, on to the floor, and I 
reallv believe it will travel in here next. 

Jessie. — How much rice did you use for your pud- 
ding ? 

Ben.— Why, a quart, of course. 

Jessie (convulsed with laughter). — A quart of rice! 
J?o wonder your rice travels; that would have made a 
two gallon pudding. Here, take the baby, and give me 



18 VICE VERSA 

that pan. I will put your potatoes on and fix your 
pudding. 

[Exit Jessie.] 

[Ben takes the baby and walks up and down the room.'] 

Will. — I think you, as well as the girls, would rather 
have the old times back. 

Ben. — That's so ; hurrah for the blessed past! 

[A knock is heard; Ben goes to the door.] 

Ben. — How are you, Sam ? Come in. 

Sam. — I thought I'd drop in and see how you are 
getting along. My responsibilities are off for a week. 
[Nods to Will.] You got here, did you? Well, what 
do you think of the housekeeper ? [Nods toward Ben.] 

Ben. — We were just going to give three cheers for 
Auld Lang Syne, as you came in. 

Sam.— All right, I'll join you in that. 

[Ben picks up wooden spoon, beats time, baby under his 
arm, and sings, tune, "Auld Lang Syne."] 

Oh ! would the good old times of old, 

[Will joins in.] 

Those good auld days so dear, 

[Ben, Will, and Sam sing.] 

Oh ! that the good old times of yore 
Would once more flourish here. 

[ Voices outside singing ; girls enter on left side of stage, 
face young men, who should be on right side.] 

We think the good old times were best 
When woman owned her sphere. 



VICE VERSA 19 

Oh ! glad we'll be to welcome back 
Those good old times this year. 

[ Girls extend right hand toivard young men .] 

Then here's a hand at your command 
To bake, and fry and stew, 

[Young men extend right hand toward girls.'] 

And here's the same to work for fame, 
For home, for cash, for you. 

[Girls clasp hands and face audience; young men step 
back of girls, unclasp their hands, place themselves be- 
tween them, then forming semicircle. All sing.] 

Agreeing, then, let us unite 

In one melodious rhyme, 
Believing that the Woman's Eights 

Will right itself in time. 

[Nodding energetically to each other, they sing. 
Tune, "Home, sweet home."] 

" Home, home, sweet, sweet home, 
There's no place like home, 
There is no place like home." 

[All step two or three steps backward and sing. 
Tune, " Cousin Jedediah.] 

So, Polly, put the kettle on, 
The kettle on, the kettle on, 
Polly, put the kettle on 
And we'll all take tea. 

[Curtain falls as last line is sung. Repeat the four lines 
after the curtain is down, the words, " all take tea," 
being sung very slowly.] 



Mv Countfy 

j J 



SCHOOL EXERCISE 



FOR THB 



Celebration T h f e Fourth of July 



BY 



Mrs. L. A. BRADBURY 



MY COUNTRY. 



GENERAL NOTES. 



This exercise is equally well adapted for school-room, exhibition hall, 
or out-door performance. 

Stage Arrangements.— An American flag on a tall staff is to be fixed 
at the middle of the stage, well forward ; it remains there during the ex- 
ercises. For the scene called " Our Adopted Citizens " there should be 
on each extreme side, at the back of the stage, an empty ornamental 
umbrella stand, to receive the rejected flags of other nations. It would 
be well to have them in place before the exercises begin. These are all 
the " properties" absolutely necessary for the stage. Evergreens, pot 
plants, cut flowers, and draped bunting may be added if desired. 

Time Occupied.— The exercise in full, will occupy about an hour, but 
it may be shortened by the omission of any of the recitations. It is de- 
sirable, whatever is omitted, to observe the order in which the parts are 
given. 

N. B.— Tf the Declaration of Independence lis read, it should precede 
this programme. 

Music. 

National Airs. [Three minutes.] 
Federation of the States. 

[Seven minutes. By thirteen girls, eleven of whom come upon the 
platform at the beginning, two others joining them afterward. They 
should be dressed in white with red sashes, having broad blue baldrics 
on which each has in large gilt letters the name of the State she 
represents Care should be taken in selecting girls appropriate for the 
different States : Rhode Island should be small, South Carolina spirited, 
Virginia should carry herself well, Maryland shoukl be pretty, Georgia 
dark-eyed, New Hampshire strong and healthy looking, etc.] 

All together. — 

FROM British rule the States are free, at length ; 
With differing gifts we come to join our strength. 

3 



4 MY COUNTRY. 

New Hampshire. — 

I bring unto the Union the granite of my hills, 
The rush of rapid rivers that drive the busy mills, 
The timber of my forests, the produce of my fields, 
And from my white-capped mountains the health that 
nature yields. 

New Jersey. — 

I bring my fertile meadows, my plots of garden ground, 

Supplying food in plenty to all the country round. 

Pennsylvania. — 

And I worthy people bring, a sober, peaceful band ; 
I bring a city that shall be distinguished in the land ; 
And in the bosom of my soil I hold, far out of sight, 
Waiting the brawny hands of toil, a source of heat and 
light. 

Delaware. — 

The bounty of the orchard, the glory of the vine, 

The increase of the furrow I bring, for these are mine. 

New York. — 

I bring my charming valleys, my lakes and streams I 

bring, 
My Adirondack forests, Niagara's thundering ; 
Besides all these I bring you a city that shall stand, 
For enterprise and commerce, the foremost in the land. 

Connecticut. — 

I bring a people noted for thrift and industry, 

For real Yankee shrewdness and ingenuity. 



MY COUNTRY. 5 

Georgia. — 

My rice-fields growing green beside the waters, 

My fields of cotton whitening everywhere, 
The rippling laughter of my dark-eyed daughters — 

These are the gifts I bear. 

Massachusetts. — 

Liberty's cradle I bring, inem'ries of patriot and sage, 
Records of valiant deeds filling my history's page. 
Age unto age succeeds ; mine is a deathless fame : 
Honor shall crown my head, glory shall gild my name. 

South Carolina. — 

Have I not fought and suffered too? 

Moultrie and Eutaw shall answer you ! 

Time cannot quench nor changes hide 

The fire of the South and its matchless pride ; 

I cast my fate with yours, if you will, 

But a sovereign State I am always still. 

Virginia. — 

I bring a record of noble names, and many a famous 
family, 

Stately mansions and broad domains, and a generous 
hospitality, 

Men descended from cavaliers, unsurpassed in gallantry ; 

Not in the land are found the peers of the Old Domin- 
ion quality. 

Maryland. — 

When Greece was at her noblest, with valor, hand in 

hand, 
Went music, art, and poetry, to glorify the land ; 



6 MY COUNTRY. 

So I, to match your gallants, my lovely daughters bring, 
That from their happy union a noble race may spring. 

\_A slight pause.] 

North Carolina (approaching from one side). — 
I bring my stretch of forest, I bring my sandy shore, 
And, from among my mountains, some scattered veins 
of ore. 
[Looks about, and continues with an apologetic air.] 
Perhaps you all are thinking I might have come before, 
It all seems very pleasant, but then — I wasn't sure. 

Rhode Island (approaching from the other side). — 
I'm a very little State, yet I feel myself as great 

As any in the land. 
It is not in one's size that one's importance lies, 

I'd have you understand. 
And if I choose to wait, and come in rather late 

To join the federal band, 
It's because a little State must needs deliberate 

Before she gives her hand. 

[ The States stand in a row, their arms crossed, the left over 
the right'] 

All together. — 

Thirteen States are we, independent, free, 

Never bowing knee unto tyranny, 

Yet we all agree in this unity. 

[Each takes the hand of the one next.] 

So join hands with me. Let us hope to see 

In the time to be, great prosperity. 

Let our watchwords be — Union — Liberty ! 



MY COUNTRY. 7 

Recitations. Division I. Our Government and the 
Republican Idea. 

[About ten minutes. Preferably by boys. All who are to recite in each 
division are to go upon the stage together ; the one speaking steps a little 
forward, retiring to the line when he finishes. This must not be done 
too hurriedly.] 

1. 

From the gallantry and fortitude of her citizens, un- 
der the auspices of Heaven, America has derived her 
independence. To their industry and the natural ad- 
vantages of the country she is indebted for her prosper- 
ous situation. From their virtue she may expect long 
to share the protection of a free and equal government, 
which their wisdom has established, and which experi- 
ence justifies, as admirably adapted to our social wants 
and individual felicity. George Washington. 

2. 
That all men are born to equal rights is true. Every 
being has a right to his own, as clear, as moral, as 
sacred, as any other being has. John Adams. 

3. 

The proudest monuments to the memory of our fathers 
are not those which are carved by the skillful artist from 
blocks of marble, or reared by the architect in majestic 
piles of granite. . . . The principles of free gov- 
ernment for which they laid down their lives ; the na- 
tional independence which, by united counsels and pain- 
ful sacrifices, they achieved on hard-fought fields ; this 
great family of States, which, with prophetic foresight, 
they bound in a fraternal confederacy; this admirable 
adjustment of local and federal government — the most 
exquisite contrivance of political wisdom which the 



8 MY COUNTRY. 

world has ever seen — these shall be their enduring monu- 
ments. Edward Everett 

4. 

All power in human hands is liable to be abused. In 
governments independent of the people, the rights and 
interests of the whole may be sacrificed to the views of 
the government. In republics, where the people govern 
themselves, and where, of course, the majority govern, 
a danger to the minority arises from opportunities 
tempting a sacrifice of their rights to the interests, real 
or supposed, of the majority. No form of government, 
therefore, can be a perfect guard against the abuse of 
power. The recommendation of the republican form is 
that the danger of abuse is less than in any other. 

James Madison. 

5. 

President Lincoln defined democracy to be " the gov- 
ernment of the people by the people for the people." 

6. 
Theodore Parker said that democracy meant not 
" I'm as good as you are," but " you're as good as I am." 

7. 
The democratic theory is that those constitutions are 
likely to prove steadiest which have the broadest base, 
that the right to vote makes a safety-valve of every 
voter, and that the best way of teaching a man how to 
vote is to give him the chance of practice. For the 
question is no longer the academic one — " Is it wise to 
give every man the ballot ?" but rather the practical 
one — "Is it prudent to deprive whole classes of it any 



MY COUNTRY. 9 

longer?" It may be conjectured that it is cheaper in 
the long run to lift men up than to hold them down, 
and that the ballot in their hands is less dangerous to 
society than a sense of wrong in their heads. 

James Russell Lowell. 



It is upon experience, and experience alone, that safe 
conclusions can be based concerning the merits and the 
faults of democracy. Charles W. Eliot. 

9. 

It is only in the United States that a well-rooted 
democracy upon a great scale has ever existed ; and 
hence the importance of accurate observation and just 
judgment of the working of American democratic insti- 
tutions, both political and social. Upon the success of 
those institutions rest the best hopes of the world. 

Charles W. Eliot. 

10. 

I believe this to be the strongest government on earth. 
I believe it the only one where every man, at the call 
of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and 
would meet invasions of the public order as his own 
personal concern. Sometimes it is said that man cannot 
be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, 
then, be trusted with the government of others? Let 
history answer the question. Thomas Jefferson. 

11. 

It is commonly said that the multitude, being igno- 
rant and untrained, cannot reach so wise a conclusion 



10 MY COUNTRY. 

upon questions of state as the cultivated few ; that the 
wisdom of a mass of men can only be an average wisdom 
at best: and that democracy, which in things material 
levels up, in things intellectual and moral levels down. 
. . . Let us put these speculative opinions, which have 
so plausible a sound, in contrast with American facts. 
The people of this country have had three supreme 
questions to settle withiu the last hundred and thirty 
years: first, the question of independence of Great 
Britain; second, the question of forming a firm federal 
union; and, third, the question of maintaining that union 
at whatever cost of blood and treasure. In the decision 
of these questions four generations of men took active 
part. The first two questions were settled by a popula- 
tion mainly English; but when the third was decided, 
the foreign admixture was already considerable. That 
graver or more far-reaching political problems could be 
presented to any people, it is impossible to imagine. 
Everybody can now see that in each case the only wise 
decision was arrived at by the multitude, in spite of the 
difficulties and dangers which many contemporary 
statesmen and publicists of our own and other lands 
thought insuperable. Charles W. Eliot 

12. 

An appeal to the reason of the people has never been 
known to fail in the long run. 

James Russell Lowell. 

13. 

I am not one of those who believe that democracy 
any more than any other form of government will go of 
itself! I am not a believer in perpetual motion in 



MY COUNTRY. 11 

politics any more than in mechanics ; but in common 
with ail of you, I have an imperturbable faith in the 
honesty, the intelligence, and the good sense of the 
American people, and in the destiny of the American 
republic. James Russell Lowell. 

Song: American Eras. Tune : " The Star-spangled 
Banner." 

[Five minutes. The solo parts had better be sung by grown people, ex- 
perienced singers ; a choir selected from the best singers of the school 
joining in the last two lines of each stanza.] 

1. 

The Discovery. 
Man's voice. 

Oh ! what do they see, in the morn's misty light, 

On the purple horizon, as westward they're sailing ? 
Columbus, triumphant, exclaims at the sight, 
The land of his promise exultingly hailing. 

Woman's voice. 
The chorus of praise and the murmur of prayer 
O'er the rolling blue billows were borne on the air. 

Mixed voices. 

Their heads were uncovered, and bent was the knee, 
As America rose from the wide-spreading sea. 

2. 

The Revolution. 
Man's voice* 

Oh ! what does he see in the darkness of night 

As he looks o'er the tide to the height of the steeple ? 
He waits for a signal, he catches its light, 

Mounts horse and away — he bears news to the 
people. 



12 MY COUNTRY. 

Woman s voice. 
The brave Paul Revere, ere the dawning of day, 
For the battle of Lexington thus made the way • 

Mixed voices. 

And the war in America then was begun 
That was not to cease till her freedom was won. 

3. 

The Civil War and Final Union. 
Marts voice. 

Oh ! see you our flag in the breeze floating bright 

On the walls of Fort Sumter, as day is declining? 
How proudly it waves as its stripes catch the light! 
What a glory of stars in its azure is shining! 
Woman 1 s voice. 
There was woe in the land for the loss of brave men 
Ere the flag o'er that fort was seen flying again : 
Mixed voices. 

But thence came a Union more firm than before — 
One nation for aye, and one flag evermore! 

Recitations. Division II. Duties and Responsibilities 
of American Citizens. [See note to Div. I.] 

1. 
This government, the offspring of our own choice, 
uninfluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investiga- 
tion and mature deliberation, completely free in its 
principles, in the distribution of its powers, uniting 
security with energy, and containing within itself a pro- 
vision for its own amendment, has a just claim to your 
confidence and your support. Respect for its authority, 



MY COUNTRY. 13 

compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, 
are duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true 
liberty. The basis of our political systems is the right 
of the people to make and to alter their constitutions of 
government. But the constitution which at any time 
exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of 
the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. The 
very idea of the power and right of the people to estab- 
lish government presupposes the duty of every in- 
dividual to obey the established government. 

George Washington. 

2. 

Let it be remembered, that it has ever been the pride 
and boast of America that the rights for which she 
contended were the rights of human nature. No in- 
stance has heretofore occurred, nor can any instance be 
expected hereafter to occur, in which the unadulterated 
forms of republican government can pretend to so fair 
an opportunity of justifying themselves by their fruits. 
In this view the citizens of the United States are re- 
sponsible for the greatest trust ever confided to a political 
society. James Madison. 



This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign 
institutions, the dear purchase of our fathers are ours ; 
ours to enjoy, ours to preserve, ours to transmit. Gene- 
rations past and generations to come hold us responsible 
for this sacred trust. Daniel Webster. 

4. 
There are such elements of hope and fear mingled in 



14 MY COUNTRY. 

the great experiment which is here trying, the results are 
so momentous to humanity, that all the voices of the past 
and the future seem to blend in one sound of warning 
and entreaty, addressing itself, not only to the general, 
but to the individual ear. By the wrecks of shattered 
States, by the quenched lights of promise that once 
shone upon man, by the long deferred hopes of humanity, 
by all that has been done and suffered in the cause of 
liberty, by the martyrs that died before the sight, by the 
exiles whose hearts have been crushed in dumb despair, 
by the memory of our fathers and their blood in our 
veins, it calls upon us, each and all, to be faithful to 
the trust which God has committed to our hands. 

George S. Hillard. 



All free governments, whatever their name, are in 
reality governments by public opinion, and it is on the 
quality of this public opinion that their prosperity de- 
pends. It is, therefore, their first duty to purify the 
element from which they draw the breath of life. 

James Russell Lowell. 

6. 

Institutions are to a people what habits are to the 
individual. They are born unperceived ; they strengthen 
and ripen insensibly ; but in their ripened strength they 
condition the people on every side, and are as completely 
characteristic of them as habits are of the individual. 
They become an integral factor of the people's ways of 
thinking and acting ; and they thus often influence or 
even control the thought and action of the mass of the 
people or of its parts at every point of daily life, as well 



MY COUNTRY 15 

as in the great critical moments of national history. 
It is important to bear in mind that the full meaning of 
the word " institutions " is very far from being covered 
by the met e word " laws." It is true that very many 
of the naturally developed institutions of a country are, 
in process of time, crystallized into laws and constitu- 
tions, and thus become tangible to the senses ; but back 
of all laws and constitutions is the mass of customary 
and habitual thinking and acting, summed up in this 
convenient word "institutions," from which laws and 
constitutions derive all their working force. 

The Century Magazine. 



If all men are wiser than any one man, it is because 
the personal passions and prejudices of a multitude bal- 
ance and neutralize one another, leaving, as the only 
safe guide the institutions which are guaranteed by 
long experience. And if Americans are to have any 
measure of success in the future, it behooves them to 
disdain any feeble leaning upon laws and constitutions 
alone, and to keep clear and full the institutional springs 
which feed our whole social and political system. 

The Century Magazine. 

8. 

If our institutions and liberties are worth saving, they 
can only be saved by eternal vigilance and action on 
the part of those whose education and interest in the 
public welfare qualify them to take part in the public 
questions on which it depends. 

Joseph H. Choate. 



16 MY COUNTRY. 

9. 

Let us remember the trust, the sacred trust, attaching 
to the rich inheritance which we have received from our 
fathers. Let us hold fast the great truth that commu- 
nities are responsible as well as individuals; that no 
government is respectable which is not just; that without 
unspotted purity of public faith, without sacred public 
principles, fidelity, and honor, no mere forms of govern- 
ment, no machinery of laws can give dignity to political 
society. Daniel Webster. 

10. 

If we are true to our country in our day and genera- 
tion, and those who come after us shall be true to it also, 
assuredly, assuredly we shall elevate her to a pitch of 
prosperity and happiness, of honor and power never yet 
reached by any nation beneath the sun. 

Daniel Webster, 

11. 
Let the venerable forms of our Pilgrim Fathers, the 
majestic images of our Revolutionary sires, and of the 
sages that gave us this glorious union, ... let every 
memory of the past and every hope of the future, every 
thought and every feeling that can nerve the arm, or 
fire the heart, or elevate and purify the soul of a patriot, 
— rouse and guide and cheer and inspire us to do, and, 
if need be, to die for our country. 

Edward Everett. 

12. 

We will not think of failure, dishonor, and despair. 
We will elevate our minds to the contemplation of our 



MY COUNTRY. 17 

high duties, and the great trust committed to us. We 
will resolve to lay the foundations of our prosperity on 
that rock of private virtue which cannot be shaken 
until the laws of the moral world are reversed. . . . 
Our growth will be like that of the mountain oak, which 
strikes its roots more deeply into the soil, and clings to 
it with a closer grasp, as its lofty head is exalted, and 
its broad arms stretched out. Thp loud burst of joy 
and gratitude, which on this, the anniversary of our 
Independence, is breaking from the full hearts of a 
mightv people, will never cease to be heard. No chasm 
of sullen silence will interrupt its course, no discordant 
notes of sectional madness mar the gen xal harmony. 
Year after year will increase it by tributes from now 
unpeopled solitudes. The farthest West shall hear it 
and rejoice, the Oregon shall swell it with the voice of 
its waters, the Rocky Mountains shall fling back the 
glad sound from their snowy crests. 

George S. Hillard. 

13. 

The twentieth century is at our doors. It begins to 
be plain that it will not be so boastful as its predecessor. 
When we cease perforce to talk about " this latter half 
of the Nineteenth Century," and begin to speak of the 
opening years of the new-born century, of which we 
have the history to make, there will be a change of 
tone, and, let us devoutly hope, a deepening sense of 
responsibility, 

J. H. Heywood. 



18 my country. 

Chorus and Recitations. Young America. 

[Five minutes. As large a company as possible of girls and boys, the 
girls occupying the back and middle space, the boys on each side and 
more forward, those who recite in a semicircle in front of all. The 
chorus should come in promptly and be sung with spirit, but not too 
fast ; a good deal of drilling will be needed to enable a large number of 
children to sing in uniform time, so that the words may be understood.] 

Chorus : Tune, " Yankee Doodle." 

Not only by the glare and noise 

Of this day's celebration, 
O Uncle Sam, your girls and boys 

Are loyal to the nation. 
Uncle Sara, we're growing up, 

Multitudes we muster, 
Made of solid stuff we hope 

And not mere brag and bluster ! 

First Boy recites.— 

We look to see our country stand 

The first among the nations, 
For that was what our fathers planned 
In laying its foundations. 

Second Boy recites. — 

We want a land of honest men 

Who speak and act sincerely, 
Who give a promise only when 

They mean to keep it really. 

Tliird Boy recites — 

We want a nation just and wise, 

Where each man's right's respected, 
Where strength shall never tyrannize, 

Nor weakness be neglected. 



MY CO UK TRY. 19 

Fourth Boy recites, — 

We want our people sober men, 

Of habits sound and steady, 
And prompt as old-time minute-men, 
For duty always ready. 

Fifth Boy recites, — 

We want a lot of cheerful folks 

Among the poor or wealthy, 
Whose sunny smiles and merry jokes 

Show mind and body healthy. 

Sixth Boy reeites. — 

And everywhere, throughout the land, 

We want a grateful spirit, 
That proves our people understand 
The blessings they inherit. 

Chorus. — 

Not only by the glare and noise, etc. 

Seventh Boy recites. — 

t We know what patriots went before, 
What heroes crowned with glory, 
And we desire, you may be sure, 
To carry on the story. 

Eighth Boy recites. — 

For what our country is to be 

Depends on what we make it; 
Our duty let us plainly see, 

Then boldly undertake it. 

Ninth Boy recites. — 

As yet no ballot do we throw, 
Direct no legislation, 



20 MY COUNTRY. 

Yet in ourselves we're holding now 
The making of a nation. 

Tenth Boy recites. — 

As are the boys the men will be, 

And as the men, the nation ; 
Its future rests with you and me, 
The rising generation. 

Eleventh Boy recites. — 

The aims that rule our lives to-day 

Will tell the nation's story 
In failure, ruin, and decay, 

Or ever brightening glory. 

Tivelfth Boy recites.— 

Not one of us can shirk his share 

In this great undertaking ; 
So, comrades, let us all take care 
What kind of men we're making. 

Chorus. — 

Not only by the glare and noise 

Of this day's celebration. 
Dear Uncle Sam, your girls and boys 

Are loyal to the nation. 
Uncle Sam, we're growing up, 

Multitudes we muster, 
Made of solid stuff, we hope, 

And not mere brag and bluster. 



MY COUNTRY. 21 

Recitations. Division III. The Union and the Flag 
as its Symbol. 

[About ten minutes. See Div. I.] 
1. 

It is of infinite moment that you should properly esti- 
mate the immense value of your national Union to your 
collective and individual happiness; that you should 
cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment 
to it ; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it 
as of the Palladium of your political safety and pros- 
perity; watching for its preservation with jealous 
anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even 
a suspicion that it can, in any event, be abandoned ; 
and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of 
every attempt to alienate any portion of our country 
from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now 
link together the various parts. For this you have 
every inducement of sympathy and interest. Citizens, 
by birth or choice, of a common country, that country 
has a right to concentrate your affections. 

George Washington. 

2. 

A powerful nation, in the full vigor of its youth, un- 
furls the banner of freedom, and its mighty folds float 
over a continent ; thrown out at first against a stormy 
sky, and in defiance of tyrants, it is bathed to-day in 
the light of peace ; the eyes of all mankind are fixed 
upon it as the sign of hope. 

Henry TF. Hilliard. 

3. 
An immense concourse of emigrants, of the most 



22 MY COUNTRY. 

various lineage, is perpetually crowding to our shores; 
and the principles of liberty, uniting all interests by the 
operation of equal laws, blend the discordant elements 
into harmonious union. 

George Bancroft. 

4. 
We have taken from Europe the poorest, the most 
ignorant, the most turbulent of her people, and have 
made them over into good citizens, who have added to 
our wealth, and who are ready to die in defense of a 
country and of institutions which they know to be 
worth dying for. 

James Russell Lowell. 

5. 

There is the national flag ! He must be cold, indeed, 
who can look upon its folds rippling in the breeze with- 
out pride of country. ... It is a piece of bunting 
lifted in the air ; but it speaks sublimely, and every part 
has a voice. Its stripes of alternate red and white pro- 
claim the original union of thirteen States to maintain 
the Declaration of Independence. Its stars, white on a 
field of blue, proclaim that union of States constituting 
our national constellation which receives a new star with 
every new State. The two together signify union, past 
and present. The very colors have a language which 
was officially recognized by our fathers. White is for 
purity ; red for valor ; blue for justice ; and all together, 
bunting, stripes, stars, and colors, blazing in the sky, 
make the flag of our country, to be cherished by all our 
hearts, to be upheld by all our hands. 

Charles Sumner. 



MY COUNTRY. 23 

6. 

Foreign-born men may become first-rate Americans, 
and a majority of them do, but not in a day, nor a 
month, nor a year. They first need to stop waving the 
flags of their native countries, and maintaining patriotism 
for the land which they have abandoned. They must 
become thor ughly Americanized. 

Ab ram S. Hewitt. 

7... 
We have nothing to do with the affairs of Europe, 
the partition of territory and sovereignty there, except 
so far as those things affect the interests of our own 

country. 

Henry Clay. 

8. 
No man can be a loyal American citizen whose 
interest in the politics of any other country would make 
him hesitate under which flag he could most heartily 
serve in case of war, or cause him to say or do any- 
thing which might involve this government in com- 
plications with any foreign power. 

Anon. 

9. 
As at early dawn the stars shine forth even while it 
grows light, and then as the sun advances that light 
breaks into banks and streaming lines of color, the 
glowing red and the intense white striving together and 
ribbing the horizon with bars effulgent, so, on the 
American flag, stars and beams of colored light shine 
out together. And wherever this flag comes, and men 



24 MY COUNTRY. 

behold it, they see in its sacred emblems no ramping 
lion, no fierce eagle, no embattled castle or insignia of 
imperial authority ; they see the symbols of light. It 
is the banner of Dawn. It means Liberty ! 

Henry Ward Beeeher. 

10. 
Every nation, as a member of the great family of 
nations, must show a proper and cordial respect f >r the 
emblems of other nationalities; and there is a peculiar 
propriety in the occasional exhibition, at private or un- 
official gatherings, of the emblems of those nationalities 
which have gone to make up the American people. 
But the case is virtually different with every exhibition 
of a foreign flag or emblem which goes to show, or is 
intended to show, that the American people is still 
nothing more than a heterogeneous mass of jarring 
nationalities. In such a case, the public opinion, of 
adopted no less than of native citizens, should promptly 
and unequivocally condemn any attempt to substitute 
any foreign flag in the place which belongs only to the 
American flag. 

The Century Magazine. 

11. 
It is the right of the American people to enjoy a 
monopoly for their own flag within their own jurisdic- 
tion; it is the right, and should be the duty of those 
who follow other flags, to follow them elsewhere. 

The Century Magazine. 

12. 
O folds of white and scarlet ! O blue field with your 



MY COUNTRY. 25 

silver stars! May fond eyes welcome you, willing feet 
follow you, strong hands defeud you, warm hearts 
cherish you, and dying lips give you their blessing! 
Ours by inheritance, ours by allegiance, ours by affection 
— long may you float on the free winds of heaven, the 
emblem of liberty, the hope of the world ! Anon. 

13. 

Sail on, O ship of state! 
Sail on, O Union ! strong and great ! 
Humanity with all its fears, 
With all its hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 

* * * >K 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, are all with thee ! 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

Scene and Song. — Our Adopted Citizens. — Tune: 
" The Red, White, and Blue." 

[Ten minutes. By company of boys. The leader takes his place by 
the flag that is fixed on the stage ; the rest of the company form in a 
pyramid, of which he is the apex ; the boys bearing foreign flags stand 
one behind another on the outer lines of the pyramid, and advance in 
the order in which they are named in the verses. Arrangements : Down 
the right side, beginning next the leader, 1st, British; 2d. French Royal ; 
3d, Irish ; 4th, Russian; 5th, Italian; 6th, Spanish. On left side, 1st, 
French, tri-color; 2d, German; 3d, Polish; 4th Swedish; 5th, Norwe- 
gian ; 6th, Turkish. At the close of the stanza, during the singing cf the 
chorus, each one that has been addressed lowers the foreign flag lie car- 
ries, marches to the roar, deposits it in the receptacle provided for it, 
takes Lis place behind the others on the outside line of the pyramid, and 
joins in singing the chorus. All sing together the last stanza. A sheet 
giving a representation of the flags of all nations may be obtained of F. 
Trifet, 408 Washington Street, Boston, and probably elsewhere, price, 



26 MY COUNTRY. 

twentvrfive cents. It is possible that it does not contain the royal 
(Bourbon) flag of France, which is white, sprinkled with gold fleur-de- 
lis, and the Irish flag, a gold harp on a green ground. The flags can be 
made without great expense of some thin but firm woolen material, like 
cashmere or alpaca, or even more cheaply of cambric and turkey red, the 
pieces carefully cut out, run together, and the seams pressed. Designs 
for the fleur-de-lis may be made of gilt paper and pasted on. 

[Boy with British flag advances. ,] 
Leader. — 

Right royal Britannia's banner, 

Proud floating o'er fortress and wave, 
As blue as the water beneath it, 

As bright as the blood of the brave. 
Enough! though its past has been splendid, 

Another claims fealty from you, 
And the promise of morning is blended 
With tints of the red, white, and blue. 
[Boy with British flag retires.'] 

Chorus. — 

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue ! 
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue ! 
The star-spangled banner forever ! 
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue! 

[Boys with French flags advance.'] 
Leader. — 

Ho ! come you from France to our borders 

With tri-colored standard or white ? 
Will you bow to Columbia's orders ? 

Are you ready her battles to fight ? 
Your flags tell a time-honored story, 

Borne bravely through centuries of wars ; 
But lay them away — yours the glory 
That shines in the stripes and the stars. 
[Boys ivith French flags retire.] 



MY COUNTRY. 27 

Chorus. — 

Three cheers, etc. 

[Boy with German flag advances.] 
Leader. — 

You came bearing Germany's colors, 

With Germany's speech in your mouth. 
At your word you exchanged them for others. 

Your lips took the citizen's oath ; 
The " Fatherland " now must be merely 

A dream and a memory to you. 
So, lower its flag, and sincerely 

Acknowledge the red, white, and blue. 
[Boy with German flag retires.] 

Chorus. — 

Three cheers, etc. 

[Boy with Irish flag advances.] 
Leader. — 

And fold the green banner of Ireland, 

The harp and the shamrock lay down, 
Replace with the story of freedom 

The tales of your ancient renown. 
Old Ireland watched over your childhood 

Like the mother your infancy knew, 
But you've chosen a bride in your manhood, 
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue f 
[Boy with Irish flag retires.] 

Chorus. — 

Three cheers, etc. 

[Boys with Russian, Italian, and Spanish flags advance 
on one side, Polish, Swedish, Norwegian, and Turk- 
ish flags on the other.] 



2£ MY COUNTRY. 

Leader. — 

Ho ! Russian, Italian, and Spaniard, 

Ho! Pole, Scandinavian, and Turk, 
'Neath the sheltering folds of our standard, 

For its honor with us will you work ? 
If you bring not a loyal affection, 

If the old flag out-values the new, 
Beware how you claim the protection 

Bestowed by the red, white, and blue ! 
[Boys with flags retire.'] 

Chorus.- — 

Three cheers, etc. 

All sing together. — 

So, under one banner united, 

Though natives of different lands, 
Our faith to our country is plighted, 

We give it our hearts and our hands. 
A union that time shall not sever, 

Whose pledges to-day we renew, 
The star-spangled banner forever ! 

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. 

Chorus. — 

Three cheers, etc. 
[Three cheers are given at the end of chorus. The boys 

remain on the platform during the recitation and 

hymn which follow.] 

Recitation. 

[Five minutes. This may be recited by one girl or four. It should be 
well done.] 

1. 

Stand by the flag, its folds have streamed in glory, 
To foes a fear, to friends a festal robe, 



MY COUNTRY. 29 

And spread in rhythmic lines the .acred story 
Of freedom's triumphs over all the globe. 

2. 

Stand by the flag, on land, on ocean billow, 
By it your lathers stood, unmoved and true; 

Living, defended ; dying, from their pillow, 
With their last blessing, passed it on to you. 

3. 

Stand by the flag, though death-shot round it rattle, 
And underneath its waving folds have met, 

In all the dread array of sanguine battle, 
The quivering lance and glistening bayonet. 

4. 

Stand by the flag, all doubt and treason scorning, 
Believe, with courage firm and fa th sublime, 

That h will float until the eternal morning 
Pales m its glories all the lights of time. 

Anon. 



Hymn. The People's Prayer. Tune: "America." 

[Five minutes. Copies of the hymn should be distributed among the 
audience, or the words written plainly on a blackboard where all may 
see it, and the audience should be asked to stand and join in singing it.J 

1. 

America, to thee 

We pledge our loyalty, 

Mind, heart, and hand ; 
Thy laws be wisely made 



30 MY COUNTRY. 

And faithfully obeyed, 
Thy honor ne'er bptrayeo- 
God, keep our land ! 



America, may we 
Give life itself for thee 

At thy command ! 
The foes that thee assail 
Before our valor quail, 
Their ill intentions fail — 

God, save our land ! 



But thy prosperity 
Long may we live to see 

On every hand. 
America, to-day 
For thee and thine we pray- 
Let all the people say 

God bless our land 1 






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By Charles C. Shoemaker. 

For Young People of Fifteen Years, 



New and Original 



120 Pages, Attractively Bound. 



Paper Binding, 25 ets.; Boards, 40 cts 



/~>HILDREN'S DIALOGUES are always enjoyable, 
^-^and are especially relished by the parents and 
friends of the youthful performers, but just where to 
obtain the material for such purposes is always a 
difficult question. To meet this want was the occasion 
of the preparation of this little book, and to that end 
only such dialogues have been accepted as are bright 
and sparkling, and are at the same time short, plain and 
simple, and easy to speak. They are suited to young 
people of fifteen years of age, and are adapted to 
every form of public and private entertainment. 

l( Without exception, this is the best book of the kind." — Register t 
Springfield, III, 

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upon receipt of price. 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed 
tjpon rereipt of price. 

THIS PICISI* PUBU8HING COMPANY 
1020 Arch Street 

Philadelphia 



Young Fol^' Entertainment 

By E. C. and L. J. ROOK. 



ABSOLUTELY NEW AND ORIGINAL 



Handsomely bound in an appropriately engraved cover* 



115 PAGES. PAPER BINDING, 25 CTS. BOARDS, 40 CTS 



FROM THE AUTHORS' PREFACE: 

" Much experience in the preparation of school entertainments 
bas shown the great difficulty of finding new material of just thfc 
right quality for presentation. These entertainments have multi- 
plied to such an extent during the last few years, that the good and 
sprightly matter contained in the old books has been used and re- 
vsed until a fresh supply seems to be an imperative demand. 

u This little work has been prepared with the design of partially 
supplying this demand, and much care has been taken to make ol 
it a book meet for the purpose. School entertainments of the present 
time generally present a much more varied performance than of old, 
and the call for variety has been met in this book by tne careful 
preparation of Motion Songs, Charades, Tableaux, Dialogues, 
Concert Recitations, Motion Pieces, Drills, etc. The preser- 
vation of a pure, moral tone throughout them has been kept in view, 
since it is not possible to take too much care in this respect in pre- 
paring matter for use by young minds." 



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THE PENN PUBUSHING COMPANY 
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Philadelphia 



(%OIGE 4TUM0R 

Fop Reading and l^eeitation 



ADAPTED FOR USE IN PUBLIC AND PRIVATE 



The Latest and Best Booh of Humor Published 



Paper Binding, 30 cts. Boards, 50 ct# t 

/^S its name implies, the selections are chosen with 
J— j the greatest care, avoiding the coarse and vulgar 
/ on the one hand, and the flat and insipid on 

the other. 

The Publishers possess unequaled facilities for secur- 
ing the best readings of every character, and the present 
volume may be considered without a rival. 

The pieces are new, but few of them having previa 
ously appeared in any similar publication, and the range 
of subjects is unusually wide. 

The repertoires of many of the best amateur and pro- 
fessional readers have been examined, and the choicest 
bits of humor have been carefully culled and bound up 
in this rich, golden sheaf, and are here offered to the 
public for the first time in book form. 

The book contains eighty-five pieces, is clearly printed 
on good, strong paper, and is bound in a handsome and 
appropriately engraved cover. 

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upon receipt of price. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1020 Arch Street 

Philadelphia 



Choice Dialect 

AND 

OTHER CHARACTERIZATIONS 

FOR 

Reading! Recitation* 



By CHARLES C. SHOEMAKER. 



200 PAGES. ENGEAVED COVER. 

Paper, 30 cents; Boards, 50 cents. 



THIS volume contains a rare collection of Choice 
Dialect of every variety, covering a broad range 
of sentiment, and suited to almost every occa- 
sion. The transitions from grave to gay, from humor- 
out to pathetic, and from the simply descriptive to the 
highly dramatic, will be found unusually wide. 

Many of the selections have never before appeared 
in print, and none of them are repetitions of those con- 
tained in any of our other publications. It is believed 
that the book will meet the wants of those who are 
partial to selections in dialect, but whose good taste 
and good sense are often shocked by the coarseness 
that too frequently prevails in books of this character. 

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( 
upon receipt of price. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1020 Arcli Street 

Philadelphia 



(^HOIGE IjDlAIiOGUES 

FOR 

School and Social Entertainment 

By Mrs. J. W. SHOEMAKER 
Handsomely Engraved Cover 

Taper Binding, 30 cts. Boards, SO cts. 



<HIS volume has been prepared in response to many 
urgent and repeated requests. The topics have 
been arranged on a comprehensive plan, with 
reference to securing the greatest possible variety, and 
the matter has been prepared especially for us by a 
corps of able writers. Each production has been 
critically examined as to its moral tone, its literary 
structure and expression, and its adaptation to the pur- 
pose intended. 

" It is a genuine pleasure to meet with a book of this 
kind that one can honestly recommend. Loftiness of 
conception, purity of tone, elevated moral sentiment, and 
perfect adaptability are some of the many good points 
to be found in this little volume, which shows on every 
page indisputable evidence of thorough and careful 
preparation." — Educational Courant, Louisville, Ky. 

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price. 

THE FENS* PUBUSHING COMPANY 
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I>UMOI^OUS 

Dialogues and Dramas. 

BY CHARLES C. SHOEMAKER. 
Handsomely Kngfraved Cover. 

Paper Binding:, 30 Cents. Boards, 50 Cents* 



SETER the severe labors of the day everyone 
enjoys that which will afford relaxation and 
relieve the mind of its nervous tension. For 
this reason the humorous reading is so heartily re- 
ceived, and the humorous dialogue so vigorously 
applauded. Humor has its legitimate field, but it 
is always attended with one great danger, that of 
descending to the coarse and vulgar. And just 
at this point lies the merit of this book. The 
dialogues are humorous without being coarse, and 
funny without being vulgar. Many of them are 
selected from standard authors, but a number of 
others have been specially written for the book by 
experienced writers. 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed 
upon receipt of price. 

THIS PENIS PtBLISHING COMPANY 
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Philadelphia 



U oliday * kntertainments. 

ABSOLUTELY NEW AND ORIGINAL 



Handsomely Engraved Cover. 200 Pages, 
PAPER BINDING, 30c; BOARDS, 50c. 



TT7HERE are few things more popular during the 
•JL® Holiday Season than Entertainments and Exhibi- 
tions, and there is scarcely anything more dir 
cult to procure than new and meritorious material 
appropriate for such occasions. The cause of the 
scarcity is the difficulty of production. 

We have not undertaken the publication of this book 
without due deliberation. A long experience has 
familiarized us with the public taste, acquaintance with 
authors has directed us where to go for material, and 
the interests of our patrons, as well as our own, have 
barred out every unsuitable article. Everything is 
Strictly new, and has been prepared expressly for this 
book. It is made up of short Dramas, Dialogues, 
Tableaux, Stories, Recitations, etc., in all of 
which are introduced many new and novel features, 
that give the spice and sparkle so desirable for ucb 
occasions. It is just the book for those whe vant 
something out of the old routine. 

While particularly designed for the Christmas f -Ioli> 
days, it is adapted to all Holidays, Summer and Win ; 
ter, to all Schools, Sunday and Secular, and t£ all 
Occasions, Public and Private. 

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upon receipt of price. 

THK PENI* PUBUSHING COMPANY 
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Philadelphia 



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THE STORY OF THE ILIAD 

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